


I'll Be The One to Sing You To Sleep If It Makes Up For The Nightmare I Caused

by localdadfriend



Category: Adventure Time
Genre: Biting, Boyfriends, Consensual, Developing Friendships, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, Fighting, Frustration, M/M, My First Work in This Fandom, One-Sided Attraction, POV Alternating, Pain Kink, Panic Attacks, Praise, Slow Build, Writing improves, bottom marshall lee, gumwad more like fuckwad, hate to love(if you can call it that), vampire anatomy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-04-04 15:05:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 37,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4142244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/localdadfriend/pseuds/localdadfriend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Either way Marshall Lee seemed to be of agreement in terms of not rejecting a red faced Fionna. Yet of course he had to be the first one to get in a word. Literally a word. “Fine.” He shrugs as if he couldn’t care less and just like that your annoyance is refueled, and only simmered by a stern glance from Fionna.</p><p>Marshall’s feet were back in the air, ax bass on his back pulled across his torso, hands playing a small string of cords before he peeks up to you. A wry grin on his lips. “Well, hop to it bubble boy. We’re on our way to becoming the best of friends.” The amount of insincerity in his words could make you gag. You don’t bother with a response, nor do you acknowledge the dusky color flooding your ears. Why does he have to do that? Why does he actively have to make you despise him even after both of you were just scolded for your lack of positive social interaction? Brat.</p><p>All you wanted to do was talk to Fionna, show her what new projects you were working on . . . Not be forced into going to some concert you'll probably hate with this jerk, no running into Marshall Lee the Vampire King. No being forced into hanging out with a guy you can hardly stand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. We don't grow up, we learn how to act in public.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So this used to be on fanfiction.net except the writing was beyond terrible and reading it was impossible without cringing. Yet somehow people still want updates? 
> 
> So yay for rewrite? First fanfic, I have three chapters planned out so far but there might be more. Any comments or constructive criticism would be wonderful (and probably provide some much needed motivation.) 
> 
> First chapters kind of short
> 
> Please excuse any grammar/spelling errors, I tried to get them all but I'm sure a few slipped through the cracks!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On hiatus

“Alright, go ahead and kick it!” you urge with an enthusiastic smile plastered to your face. Your hands pressed together in anticipation for Fionna’s first reaction. This would only be a testing prototype for your newest project involving organic based jelly that had a strong reaction in terms of velocity when combined with direct contact. Given the way the blond girl stares you can’t help but roll your eyes a bit. Hands gesturing her on.

Fionna continues with that puzzled look on her face, the one where her nose scrunches upward and for a moment you fear it may not work. Luckily your nerves are soothed as a defeated smile spreads across her lips. She shrugs and gives what you can only imagine a hard kick. “Hiy-Aah!” An excited yelp escapes as her foot flies through the jelly, the material clinging to her foot and shifting shape before solidifying.

Already by the look on her face you can tell she’s confused.

“So, uh, _what_ is it?”

This is precisely what you expected and you execute a nod of satisfaction accompanied by a smile. “Well, you see I was originally working to make a glass substitute that was flexible but this happened instead!” Fionna raises a brow at you before looking back to her foot, then back to you with a blank stare. Perhaps you over estimated how much of it she would put together. .

You can’t help the small sigh escaping your lips despite its potential rudeness. Glancing around your eyes light up once they stop on the fireplace. Perfect! Grinning you turn back to her. “Kick the fireplace.”

A squawk in reply “What! No way man, that’ll just hurt!”

Your grin widens and you press onward. “Just kick it!”

Despite her continued protest there something in her voice, amusement? Either way after shaking her head and grumbling a bit the girl went to hesitantly swing her foot across the flames. Eyes squeezed shut you can only imagine she’s anticipating pain. (Like anyone would really.)

Of course she feels none.

You let out an excited exclamation, the look of awe become mirrored back to you via Fionna’s face. The two of you exchanging giddy glances and grins. The jelly absorbing the heat and most of the damage instead of her flesh.

“Holy cow! Gumball this is amazing!” The grin on her only matching your own. “You have got to get me more of this! Actually what is this?” Humming you nod dismissively at the initial question, pacing across from her. “Gelatin mostly. Although I believe the other ingredients are experiencing a chemical reaction to either movement and speed or natural oil.” Either was possible you suppose. Hopefully it wouldn’t have any further negative effects.

Biting your lip it only caught your attention when out the corner of your eye the jelly Fionna was scrapping from her foot began fading in color. The brilliant candy red fading and muting to grey and lifeless.

Eyes narrowing you forgo Fionna’s initial gasp that's followed by a laugh as a certain vampire king oh so dramatically appears with a grin on his face. Most likely pleased with that entrance of his. For some reason you aren’t surprised. Arms crossing you allow your disinterest to be known by all. For whatever reason ever minuet action annoyed you.  
Not that you were ever on particularly good terms with the vampire king as of late. Or ever really. Something about him came off as sketchy. He was rude, loud, and, and distasteful! Shoot. . Why are you getting so fussy? He hasn’t so much as said a word to you and you’re this worked up?

Somehow you don’t find it in yourself to complain as the vampire floats past you in favor of meeting Fionna. You didn’t particularly feel like socializing truth be told. If it weren’t already obvious.

None the less you are here and therefore you observe.

“So Fionna, you ready for the concert?”

Through the corner of your eye you notice Fionna’s previous enthusiasm fade. Somehow this causes your lips to twitch upward and you feel. Satisfied? Which is kind of dumb.

“Oh yeah, um, about that.. Icantgo.” the second half of her sentence spilled out in one breath. Marshall Lee drops to his feet, what you think is a frown showing up on his face. “What do you mean? We had this planned out, got the tickets and everything.” While you wouldn’t say devastated, Marshall did look genuinely upset next to Fionna. “I know Marshall! I’m sorry, I really am, but just, something came up. We’ll get together sometime soon okay?” She offered a small smile before dragging her teeth across her lips, the gears in head turning.

Then she had to make the worst possible suggestion that only takes you by surprise, eyes widening at the idea alone.

“Why don’t you take Gumball?” Apparently she’s oblivious to the atmosphere between you two.

Aside from your look of surprise you conveniently choose now to break away from your previously dismissive appearance. A glance is exchanged with the vampire out the corner of your eye. You’d like to think his thoughts are similar to yours in this scenario but he hasn’t said anything yet.

“No! Uh, no, no thank you.” You try to cover your all too quick reply. A reply Fionna isn’t buying if you’re judging by the hand placed on her hip. You couldn’t be much more obvious huh? Shoot. You peek in Marshall Lee’s direction and automatically regret it. You seem pretty see through to him as well judging by the unamused expression set across his face. Wonderful. Just wonderful. A tug in your stomach tells you you’re screwed and oh how you were correct.

“Oh but your majesty, I would be simply heartbroken if you wouldn’t join me.” He sneers, a lethal dose of sarcasm and bitterness mixed into his words. Already pacing to stand by Fionna across from you. The position of the two placing you on the ‘villain’ side of the growing argument. Your cheeks are already beginning to betray you as they shift in color, luckily Fionna’s interjecting before you have a chance to retort.

“Hey, stop it!” Fionna barks with clear frustration, a demand for obedience in her voice. Marshall automatically backs up, hands up in defense despite a smirk on his face. “Both of you!” Wait. _both_ of you? The confusion must show on your face by the way her eyes narrow at the two of you. “This is the perfect opportunity for you two to get to know each other.” She finished with both a pout and hand on her hip. Cake seemed to agree judging by the snicker escaping from across the room. You and Marshall Lee exchange a small glance before you both move to open your mouth.

Fionna once again beats you both too it. “I’m being serious!” Voice surprisingly stern.  
Another female voice soon accompanies herself via cake. “Yeah, don’t think we haven’t noticed that nasty air between you two.” For some reason you feel as though Cakes looking at you instead of the both of you and your cheeks flush.

“If you guys just spend a few hours together, well, maybe you two could even be friends!” There’s a beat of silence. “Or, at least be able to stand in the same room with another without acting like little kids!” There’s a huff of frustration that makes you feel guilty again. Wincing almost at her words. Had you really been so obvious? You can’t even manage turning your head to catch the vampire’s expression but you hope his is similar.

Either way Marshall Lee seemed to be of agreement in terms of not rejecting a red faced Fionna. Yet of course he had to be the first one to get in a word. Literally a word. “Fine.” He shrugs as if he couldn’t care less and just like that your annoyance is refueled, and only simmered by a stern glance from Fionna.

Marshall’s feet were back in the air, ax bass on his back pulled across his torso, hands playing a small string of cords before he peeks up to you. A wry grin on his lips. “Well, hop to it bubble boy. We’re on our way to becoming the best of friends.” The amount of insincerity in his words could make you gag. You don’t bother with a response, nor do you acknowledge the dusky color flooding your ears. Why does he have to do that? Why does he actively have to make you despise him even after both of you were just scolded for your lack of positive social interaction? Brat.

That is the only word that comes to your head.

Marshall Lee is nothing but a giant brat.

All you wanted to do was talk to Fionna, show her what new projects you were working on . . . Not be forced into going to some concert you'll probably hate with this jerk, no running into Marshall Lee the Vampire King. No being forced into hanging out with a guy you can hardly stand. Leaving the house you find yourself kicking the ground as you walk. When you bother glancing up you find the person in mind is several meters ahead of you and does not seem to be slowing or waiting. You scowl, how did he even get that far ahead?

“Slowdown will you! Not everyone can fly.” You have to jog to keep up with him and ignoring his laughter is almost impossible as you’re wiping sweat from your brow. The physical aspect of running isn’t so much a problem as the fact you’re not wearing athletic attire. Far from it actually.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

You really dislike this guy. I mean _really_ dislike this guy.

Before the words formulate on your tongue the sweet, sweet ground is being pulled up from under you. A pair of hands under your armpits are suddenly lifting you into the night. That damn vampire was dangling you above the land of Ooo. If it weren’t for the initial terror in your bones you might enjoy the way the sky looks, or how the forestry lays out below, Candy Kingdom in the distance. Except terror is running through your bones.

“PUT ME DOWN!” The sound of your voice is shrill and uncharacteristic to calm and collected but you can’t see yourself caring. The kicking and thrashing probably isn’t helping and might be a bit unnecessary if you wanted to think about it but honest to god it was just instinct. Who wouldn’t be protesting in this situation really? You begin to feel your stomach drop in dread at the distance between yourself and the ground. Your fault for looking down really.

“Calm down, at this rate I’ll end up dropping you on accident.” Aside from mild frustration he sounds relatively cool. There’s a frown on his face and while you stop thrashing at the thought a nervous whine still manages to escape your throat without permission. You would never let yourself appear weak in front of him on purpose. Whine turning into a cry as the ground suddenly starts to reach out towards you. You realize you’re falling.

 _Oh god. I’m gonna die. I’m gonna die. That vampire’s gonna just let me die!_ Your mind is racing, poor fionna. You kind of hope she’ll feel guilty at your funeral when this is all done. Before splattering across the ground you’re caught in a pair of arms. Grappling onto Marshall was only instinct right? Arms tightly wrapping themselves around his neck. Eyes squeezed tightly shut. Heart beating rapidly from adrenaline and fear. Your face buried in the vampires shoulders. Had you looked you would catch the baffled expression running across Marshall’s face. More importantly the flush of color across his face. Instead you only hear a soft half-hearted chuckle.

There’s a beat of silence filled with only the wind and sound of night.

“whatta wimp man, disappointed in ya.” He tsks softly to himself, Gumball still hiding away his expressions not quite ready to loosen his hold. That is, until you realize who and how tightly you’re holding on to him. Like he’s a lifeline that will disappear if you’d hold on to him for dear life. At the realization your arms loosen from around Marshall’s neck and there is a reflected pout in your cheeks. The red hue stubborn and refusing to leave. You hardly pay attention to the scenery until you realize that you can’t see the sky anymore.

Wait.. Weren’t they supposed to be.. The concert wasn’t in a bunch of caves right? I mean that would cause a lot of safety concerns! Although the sound would naturally echo off the walls and ceilings eliminating need for speakers.. You drag your teeth across your lip in thought as Marshall brings you to solid ground once more. You quickly take a few steps back and ignore the fact he had just carried you bridal style through the sky. You then notice the cozy little house. Wait, that couldn’t be his right? It was so . . Normal looking.

The other must sense your confusion because he’s already let out a small laugh. “I thought we were going to a concert?” With a damn smirk you are ignored and passed by as Marshall heads up the porch. The only acknowledgment your way is when he holds open the door. Waiting for you to follow him and go inside.

The manners thrown in only create a frown on your face, glare cast at him as you wander inside. Once again you are surprised that he actually lives here. It’s just so quaint and pleasant! You always pictured dark and gloomy.

“Eh, it’s not for another hour or two.” He says it as if it weren’t a big deal and doesn’t matter. A pink brow twitches upward in frustration. So in other words he was brought here for next to no good reason? Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful! Grumbling to yourself you lose the battle to curiosity and turn you head to look around. Settle yourself on the red couch. It was a rather clean pad, cleaner than he’d thought. No skeleton motifs or symbols of death. Oh glob.

What if he kept blood in the fridge?! There was blood in the fridge. Oh glob what if Marshall had—

“You want something to drink man?” Your entire body stiffens, eyes widening some as you look at him. Judging by the confused expression you can relax and assume he is not in fact a mind reader. You decline the offer and he shrugs.

Disappearing you prepare yourself for him to come back with a juice box of.. Well, red, but instead he holds a small bowl of strawberries. Picking them up by the stem and lowering them to his lips. What follows has your nose crinkle. The red berries soon shriveled grey fruit. At least it wasn’t blood. After a moment he catches your stare, strawberry in mouth and brows raised. The bowl is offered in your direction but you shake your head declining the offer. Watching him eat has kind of killed your appetite.

“So, if this concert is not until later why exactly did you bring me here instead of letting me go home?” It seemed pretty damn illogical in your opinion. The vampire pauses, placing the bowl down and returning a sour face as he soon gestures to your outfit. Rude. “That.” Frowning you look down at your clothing and then back to him not seeing any sort of connection. “You’ll die of sweat if you wear that and I kind of doubt you have the right taste to fit in with the crowd without sticking out like a sore thumb.”

Mouth opening your cheeks heat up and whatever defense you thought you had dies down in your throat. It’s not like you know what concert it is, but judging by Marshall Lee along can guess it’s rock or something else near the genera. He still didn’t see anything wrong with what he was wearing. . Though maybe it would get a bit hot in a crowd of excitement.

As Marshall gets up you quickly follow, brain lighting up. “Hey, wait then you definitely should have taken me home to change!” No response. You find yourself upstairs in his bedroom and he still hasn’t said anything in response. “Are you ignoring me?”

Hands on your hips you grumble and turn away. Perhaps this is your fault for lowering you guard because all too soon you are being attacked by a black tee shirt and some skinny jeans that are suspiciously close to the color pink. Squawking in protest you lie the pants on the others bed, staring at them with an obvious frown.

Opening up the shirt you find two gummy bears and the words ‘Acid Bath’ scrawled across the front in some sort of candy cane lettering. What the heck. You hold the shirt to yourself and it appears as if it might fit. Looking to Marshall he seems to watch and nod in approval.

Wait.

He didn’t expect you to actually wear this did you? When you gave no feedback Marshall frowns, oblivious to whatever problem there might be. God he’s impossible. Doesn’t he understand how rude that is? You didn’t ask for a change of clothes.  
  
“What? Dude, it’s pink _and_ it has candy on it.” Is this his logic? “It's one of the most perfect matches made in Ooo.” For once the grin on his face isn’t on the snarky or sarcastic side. Well, okay so maybe it was a little sarcastic but overall it was friendlier. Looked genuine. The left of his lip tilted higher creating a slightly crooked grin. Those canine he calls teeth exposed slightly and despite yourself you find yourself thinking that it’s a nice smile. Well, when it’s meaningful at least. Pft.  
  
Despite all this you happen to roll your eyes, comeback muttered under your breath as you turn around and begin unbuttoning your tunic. From the sounds of it Marshall had gone back to toying with his bass guitar but every now and then the plucking of cords would halt without notice, as if he was distracted or lost in thought. Of course you would have no idea to see whether or not he was peeking a glimpse at you. Blinking in surprise when finding you aren’t a willowy twig in figure and instead something sturdy looking.

You do however catch a tint in his pointed ears when you turn around. Huh. What could that be about?

The shirt seems a bit big on you which you find surprising because he’s always looked thinner than you. Maybe it was just a shirt too large for him. You went into the bathroom to change and the pants seem to fit well enough, but, you can’t help but feel self-conscious, weight shifting back and forth as you tug on the hem standing in front of him looking for some bit of approval. You’re of no mind to judge whether this looks particularly good on you. “Does it look okay? I mean, I usually don’t wear black, and tee shirts aren’t really my thing..” You trail off in uncertainty. Doubt filling your stomach at the prolonged silence that only seems to grow. Why can’t he just flipping reassure you already? Frustration begins to bubble in your stomach as he finally opens his mouth.

“Yeah, I guess you look kinda hot.” The nonchalant shrug accompanied by a grin earns a much deserved death glare. “Should wear it more often.” Oh yeah, now he pays compliments.

Your eyes are screaming bloody murder and apparently it only makes him laugh. “Oh come on, ya look fine!” And there’s that genuine smile again. The expression removing his usual snark and replacing it with something uncharacteristic in him.

Despite this reassurance you’re crossing your arms. “Why’d you put me in these anyways?”

The look he sends you doesn’t help, nor answer the question. In fact it only makes you feel a little dumb for asking. “Well, it’s just a concert, no reason to look fancy.” The answer almost makes you roll your eyes until he continues. Shoot, that’s a growing habit the longer you spend time with him. “Plus I figured you wouldn’t want to stand out so much, sooo, might want to leave the jewelry at home.”

At your confused expression he gestures to the top of your head and it’s an automatic no.

No, no, no. That is your symbol of authority and royalty. The symbol of your kingdom! Marking you prince!

As if he can sense your unease he’s dropping to his feet, moving across the floor to open an empty drawer in his dresser. “Look, it’ll be safer here, I promise.”

There’s a puppy dog like expression on his face and he’s smiling sweetly as if to convince you. After an amount of bickering you give in. While it feels strange you watch as your crown along with the rest of your clothing articles are tucked away into a drawer. For the rest of time left before the concert Marshall bickers about playing with your hair. You of course refuse be manages to ruffle it anyway. Leaving the house you admit that perhaps you don’t look so bad.

However that does not change the fact that your mind has not changed and you still don’t want to be going to this concert.

He hasn’t told you who’s playing and your possibly thankful. Hopefully you won’t be entirely miserable.

When he changes into a giant bat you near scream.

It proves to be better than the option of being carried.


	2. Loathing Won't Help, Ya Know?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'The question that’s been taking over your mind hour by hour reveals itself once more. The desperation for some sort of answer only growing the longer you spend time with Gumball. 
> 
> How the hell do you like him? '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like when writing a large inspiration was Jake and Dirk from homestuck, let's be real. I'm trash. 
> 
> Also I can't help but feel like my POV is kinda weird but I don't know any other consistent way of writing soooo yeah..

As you predicted Marshall Lee doesn’t let your slip of fright go without poking fun of it. You really are glad he’s not carrying you in his arms this time but there are still a few flaws you could point out with this alternative. Mainly it being a rather disturbing process to watch. Seeing the vampire’s limps suddenly begin stretching upward, shifting and transforming until the proportions corrected themselves. Body morphing into something it shouldn’t. Wings breaking out the back of his spine while fur filled the spaces in between. You’d think it was painful, that he’d be grimacing the way you are. Instead he turns his head and smiles at you. Or, at least you _think_ it’s a smile. It’s not so easy to tell. All the while you can’t help but stand there dumbfounded. When did your jaw drop? This wasn’t new. You were well aware that Marshall had certain abilities and had seen his form as a much, much smaller bat.  
  
This was different. He was at least five, if not six times your height. In truth it was sort of terrifying.  
  
Of course he has no decency in letting you adjust and instead let out a laugh. Glob that sounded so incredibly strange coming from that body. This time you didn’t protest when scooped up. Heights were no issue to you—well, as long as you’re not being dangled like a doll about to be dropped from the roof.  
  
Your shock hasn’t quite settled yet and you’re gripping his fur, settled on the bone of his shoulder. Once the wind picks up you bury your head to escape its relentless nips. Flying without any vocal point to keep your eyes on builds nausea in your stomach, it’s as if you’re floating in the ocean, rising and falling with the waves. You’re mind too preoccupied with the task of relaxing to listen to what Marshalls saying. Though most of it is probably being lost to the wind. You think you catch something about the place being indoors. You try to pay attention but in the end between your head and the wind you give up. Maybe being carried in his arms would have been a better option after all. Well aside from walking. Except you didn’t know how far this place was.  
  
You can’t give an exact amount of time but you think ten minutes pass before you can withstand holding your head up. The sky fading into blue, blankets of stars appearing overhead. You arrive at a large building in what you swear is the middle of nowhere despite Marshalls refute.  
  
Lights are flashing even from outside and you can feel the ground vibrate underneath you from the bassline. Jeez how loud _is_ the music? You don’t watch as Marshall returns to normal, feet still suspended in the air with his arms behind his head. Grin on painted on his lips as he floats towards the entrance. You think he might not turn around. A part of you is hoping he doesn’t.  
  
Oh.. So close!  
  
The frown makes you feel an ounce of guilt but you remain planted where you are, holding your elbow awkwardly as you stare at the entrance. Perhaps your nerves are getting the better of you. Except, really, why would you want to go in there? It looks so incredibly loud. Just the sliver of lights has your stomach dropping in discontent. There’s a sigh and soon enough Marshall retrieves you by the wrist, pulling you along behind him as he pulls the two of you into the ticket line. You don’t complain. The bouncer pays little attention after checking the tickets and you’re beginning to think this is more like a club until you actually step inside.  
  
The volume increases tenfold and you’re only in the back! What the heck, did they have speakers set up back here? You thought the back was supposed to be somewhere you could relax! Instead of mellow listeners you’re faced with jumping crowds and mosh pits. All you can do is follow Marshall Lee at this point. Why the hell did Fionna want to come to this anyway? Already your ears hurt and the music wasn’t something he’d listen to.  
  
In attempt to be polite and possibly enjoy this damn occasion you join the crowd. It’s hard to see the actual band which you find surprising. Five six isn’t tall, sure, but you’re not that short are you? It seems that height doesn’t seem to matter when hundreds of people are jumping about and partying. Ears having adjusted you find your curiosity peaking. Marshall is still in sight so you risk moving farther into the crowd with ‘excuse me’ and ‘sorry, pardon me’. No one seems to care or acknowledge you. They keep on partying, jumping and singing along too lost in the experience to pay mind to someone slipping past them.  
  
You give up, turn around and wander slightly. Wait. Where did he go? Returning to the checkpoint of a boy and girl sporting pink and blue hair you scan the area for Marshall but there’s too much movement and the lighting is dark. Wallflowering towards the back it takes a few minutes for the situation to sink in. You’re alone at a concert you want nothing to do with, you don’t know anyone there, and you don’t know where you are.  
  
Any positive energy in you is quickly spilling out and mixing into the adrenaline of the crowd worry fills the pit of your stomach. Anxiety follows suit as you push off the wall. Despite the panic in your head you slip into the sea of people once more. Like a single drop of water consumed by stormy seas. Teeth gritting you do your best to ignore the bodies rubbing against you. Dammit. Where is he? Did that asshole really just leave you stranded there? Another elbow connects with your rip as the song changes. Electric guitar fills the air, without a word the atmosphere changes. You’ve pushed far enough into the crowd to be caught in the more extreme concert goers. Before you can process what’s about to happen a bodies pushing against your back, propelling you forward until you hit the back in front of you. This continues towards the front stage like a domino effect. Those in the back stampeding ahead. The bubble of space you held to yourself doesn’t return as you’re pushed side to side with the onslaught of the crowd. Wavering back and forth you feel arms grip onto you for support just as you wind up grabbling onto the person in front of you.  
  
Falling isn’t a surprise, the sound and lights disorienting you. Whoever’s around you have the decency to pull you up, and the more hardcore rockers don’t complain when someone directs they part a path for you to escape. In fact, they’re quite willing to part for you.  
  
The air is no longer being forced out of your lungs and no one is bumping against you but the sensation remains and you still feel like you can’t breathe.  
  
The air is tight and fueled by the mass of multiple bodies. Stumbling past fans your brain continues to fall apart. You feel past claustrophobic, jumping even as someone’s hand passes your shoulder.  
  
You still don’t know where Marshall Lee is.  
  
Breaking down isn’t difficult, in fact it’s rather easy. You’re not sure when the tears bubbled in your eyes but you can’t make them stop even as you find a bathroom to hide in. Rushing into a stall it only just occurs to you that you’re shaking. The heightened panic still flowing through your veins. You didn’t even want to come tonight!  
  
Twenty minutes pass and you leave the stall, cheeks tinted red, but overall a decent level of composure has been composed and you feel capable of returning to the chaos that is outside.  
  
Of course upon turning you finally find the damn vampire you were looking for. Face ramming right into his chest. He was always a bit taller than you. A sharp sting fills your nose.  
  
“Dude, what the heck? Thanks for ditching me out there.”  
  
Oh. Oh no. A single glance at that oblivious expression sparks your anger. Panic and adrenaline fueling the emotion.  
  
“Ditch you? Do you fully understand I was maybe three yards ahead of where we were standing? Couldn’t you have stayed where we were so I could find you when I turned around?” Somehow your voice betrays you, the words not even close to the biting tone you’d imagined.  
  
As it may be, Marshall doesn’t seem to have a problem with filling a voice of venom.  
  
“When was it my job to babysit you? You’re allowed to do what you want. More importantly I’m allowed to what I want. I didn’t plan on including chasing after someone who can’t be bothered to stop and say where he’s going.”  
  
You flinch and the door opens. Both of you glance the other way and wait in silence as the bathroom empties once again. Sadly the tension only seemed to expand like a balloon nearing its bursting point.  
  
Can’t he tell you’re freaking out? Whatever anger you held is bubbling, disappearing into thin air as that earlier anxiety fills you. The cold glare of his red eyes confirms he can’t.  
  
Mouth drying you look away, chest deflating. “I’ll be outside.” Is the only thing escaping your lips before you push past him, ignoring the words thrown back at you when rushing out the door. Fionna was wrong, so, so, incredibly wrong about you two. The chemistry is too different! He’s thoughtless and thick headed. Can’t pick up on clues. Why did you ever think appeasing Fionna was a good idea? Aside from small moments, flickers, the tension was always there. Pulled tight like a rubber band. Snapping once you were forced together.  
  
Stepping outside the night is much cooler, fresh air clearing away some of the negative thoughts. Small clusters of people are lingering outside the venue and while muffled you can still hear the band playing.  
  
Finding a slab of wall to slump down and sit against you let out a sigh. How incredibly draining. . . Maybe you should just leave now. Closing your eyes you lean your head against the wall and decide to wait it out for whatever reason.

 

\-       **Become the vampire**     –

 

What the actual fuck? For a guy spouting bullshit on manners and the ways of being a gentlemen you can’t see how he could gain the nerve to be mad at you when he was the one who suddenly up and disappeared.  
  
Left in the bathroom grinding your teeth you stalk back out into the venue, head clouded with thought. Emotions riding the waves of the melody being played. Frustrated and confused. It was a bluff, you never planned on ditching him but was it really that hard to take a minute and clue you in on what the hell he was doing wandering off by himself?  
  
A bitter laugh escapes without your knowing and the girl beside you casts a strange expression that you choose to ignore. Bloody miracle he didn’t get stuck in a mosh pit. The mental image was just too easy to conjure. Bubble boy being pushed and shoved back and forth, pink skin producing blooms of purple and green.  
  
You’re not a babysitter. It’s not your job to make sure the precious king is safe and sound. Glob Fionna would have never pulled a dumb stunt like that. Didn’t he understand how dangerous it could be to wander around by himself? Even if Fionna did at least she knew how to handle herself. He wouldn’t have to spend half an hour searching through the masses of people just to make sure some asshole with pink hair wasn’t nursing a black eye.  
  
Shit, why did you even care? Gumball wants to fuck off? Fine, let him get into trouble for all you care.  
  
 Except you did, and it pissed you off. Then you were the one blamed for it all. Shitshitshitshit. You fucked up. Fionna’s gonna kill you. He’s gonna go crying to her and you’re gonna be pounded to a pulp for hurting his stupid royal feelings.  
  
Sometime after catching him in the bathroom the concert stopped being enjoyable and instead became distracting. The noise mixing with your thoughts, lyrics encouraging your aggravation.  
  
“Shit…”  
  
Before you can give into your ‘soft’ side you say fuck it. Remind yourself that Gumball was the one who freaked out, wandered off, and got pissed at you for doing absolutely nothing wrong. In fact you went looking for his ass.  
  
The internal monologue is only interrupted when your ears catch the bit of an interesting conversation via a trio of gossiping girls in the back huddling near the bathroom.  
  
“..Yeah I think it was him!”  
  
“..I doubt it, you said he didn’t even have a crown.”  
  
“..I dunno, he looked like he was freaking out—oh! Do you think he was crying!”  
  
“Huh, maybe it _was_ him!”  
  
You watch the trio explode into a fit of giggles, jaw tensing.  
  
You’re such a fucking idiot.  
  
Unlike someone you don’t bother using manners when pushing through the crowd. He is so stupid. The brat. That unbelievable brat. Thinking about it your eyebrows only furrow, fists clenching as your struggle towards the door.  
  
What the hell happened? Undeniably there is no way in your mind the group of girls were speaking of anyone other than prince Gumball. Crying? Why was he crying? Why didn’t he _tell_ you he was crying? If he wanted to leave he could have just as well said so. It’s not hard dude. ‘Hey, I’m uncomfortable, can we bounce?’ That fucking simple. Sure you’d have to poke fun at him for being such a wimp but what made him thinking yelling was a good solution?  
  
Escaping into the fresh air you glance around.  
  
You don’t rule over the Nightosphere but suddenly it seems all too fitting that you hold the title king while Gumball holds prince. So what? You might not know what a salad fork looks like or hold a polished set of manners, but at least you know how to be straight with someone. You don’t run away from the problem.  
  
Who would have thought you were going to be the mature one?   
  
The question that’s been taking over your mind hour by hour reveals itself once more. The desperation for some sort of answer only growing the longer you spend time with Gumball.  
  
How the hell do you like him?  
  
The music was already slowing to a mellow pace when you left, no doubt it’s nearing its end. Luckily finding Gumball isn’t as difficult a task as it was inside. You’re actually kind of surprised he stuck around. Why not just call his bird? Oh. Right. You still have his stuff don’t you?  
  
Approaching earns no particular reaction, frowning you lightly kick his foot and earn his attention. An emotion flashing across his face before it shifts into the same frown observed earlier where he glares with eyebrows turned down. Lip in a straight line. Well, guess we can say he’s still mad.  
  
The earlier brawl spikes a nerve in you and you have to let out a sigh just to force away words you might regret. Though, with him you could easily regret just about anything, couldn’t you? Hah, and to think he calls _you_ oblivious. What a joke that is.  
  
“Sup.”  
  
He glares. Alright, you admit that’s not the best opener.  
  
“Please don’t tell me that’s how you plan on starting this conversation.”  
  
“… Uh, that’s how I plan on starting this conversation.”  
  
Rolling your eyes you hold out your hand. To your surprise he takes it, allowing you to easily hoist him up off his ass.

By the way he stares you can only assume he’s expecting you to transform, instead you gesture your head, prompting him to walk with you.  
  
“Where are we going?”  
  
“To get your stuff, but right now we’re talking.”  
  
He’s shifting out the corner of your eye. Obvious frown on his face. Arms crossed. You keep your hands stuffed in your pockets. He really needs to get himself a poker face.  
  
“Why didn’t you just tell me you wanted to leave?”  
  
Laughing was inevitable, bitter or not. It’s actually kind of sad that he can look at you like you have five heads. What? Are you some heartless monster to him? Well, okay so maybe the monster part isn’t that far off, but still. Did he really think you wouldn’t catch on? Maybe it was with the help of overheard conversation but you didn’t think yourself that naïve.  
  
It takes a moment before he answers and you can’t help but feel something sink in your chest. So yeah, you’re not really friends. In fact you kind of think he’s a stuck up dumbass but, it’s not like you flat out rejected the idea of maybe getting along. Just maybe. Guess that was just you.  
  
“I couldn’t find you.” The words sound forced and he’s not looking at you.  
  
“So what? You choose to yell at me when you do?” The frustration you were trying to hide slips out and you silently curse yourself. “I mean what the hell Gumball? You think I’m that much of a jerk to ignore you and leave you somewhere new?”  
  
You’ve moved in front of him, glaring at him while he stand in place and you know you must have hit a nerve because that angry expression of his breaks. Huh, suddenly he has nothing to say. The silence confirms the accusation and there’s that clench in your chest again. You blink, surprise slipping into your expression against you will followed by disappointment.  
  
“Oh.”  
  
A warm hand grips your wrist, stopping you from pressing forward. Even now that caught expression Gumball wore was masked with an attempt at anger. You can just tell he’s searching for leverage, an excuse or flaw. Something to hold against you.  
  
And out of pain or masochism you wait. Face cold and prepared for whatever blame he has to throw at you. “But.. You never said anything! You could have followed me, or told me you wanted to stay together!”  
  
Already midway through that pathetic string of words you’re laughing. You easily pull your wrist from his.  
  
“Fucking hell, don’t tell me you can’t even produce a simple apology?” you sneer out.  
  
He fumbles and you throw up your hands in dismissal at it all not holding the patience to wait for one.  
  
You offer no warning when you shift form, just as Gumball offers not complaint when you pick him up.  
  
You get home faster than usual and don’t offer conversation. In fact you near avoid it, heading upstairs to grab gumballs shit and toss it to him. He looks apologetic, guilty even. You really don’t have it in you to feel sympathy for him at the moment.  
  
“Marshall I..”  
  
“You can keep the shirt.”  
  
“Oh, uh, thanks, but hey—“  
  
“Really had fun dude, we’ll have to do it again.”  
  
“Marshall!”  
  
“You can call your bird for a ride.”  
  
You don’t feel bad about closing the door on his face. He doesn’t sound too happy about it but tough shit right? It’s actually quite the surprise when you hear him continue dead end conversation starters.  
  
The sound outside your door is short lived but you go and turn up your record player anyway to drown out the thoughts in your head.


	3. I'd Like To Meet Them But They Loathe Me And I Hate Them Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marshall Lee and Cake do that talking thing - things will become interesting relatively soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hhhh, coding is not fun.  
> So yeah, more boys in denial. Got the high school sexual tension atmosphere going on.  
> Thanks for sticking around so far! Things should be getting a bit more heated soon. 
> 
> Chapter title taken from the song "We are beautiful, we are doomed."

The sheets crinkle, the loudest sound in the room is coming from a soft electrical hum of your fan. The cool pressure isn’t something you really need. It’s not particularly hot in the house, everything in the cave stays relatively cool for the most part. The spinning blades are merely a familiar comfort. The blanket is warm and the bed sinks beneath your weight turning your muscles to putty. You’re more tired than you originally thought. Though concerts are never a boring experience, so exhaustion is to be expected.  
  
Still, it’s been a long time sense you’ve actually fucking cuddled up in your bed. Usually it remains the one spot in your room untouched. All neat and tidy and out of place. Just waiting for the day or night where it will ultimately get fucked up by your endless tossing and turning.  
  
The act of laying in your bed is pretty unnecessary if you really want to get into detail about the sleeping habits of a vampire.  
  
Shit, when did you get such nice blankets? It’s kind of silly to be honest, extremely silly. On days when your face feels numb and your legs are stiff you’ll plop down into the mattress. What do ya know, ten minutes later you’re passed out mouth open and floating about a foot off the bed. It’s actually a pretty weird experience considering the whole asleep factor to suddenly rise into the air like you're possessed. Heh, that'd be a good prank.  
  
However you don’t fall asleep like you should. The exhaust of Fionna's brilliant idea somehow fail in making you pass out. It’s stupid, _he’s_ stupid. Running off like that. Like some spoiled, all expecting

. . . Prince.  
  
God this is stupid, why do you care? (Because you’re not heartless). He was the one acting like a complete tool. (You’re only _sort_ of an asshole). Of course when you bring it up he explodes but has to go on putting on a puppy face. Blue wide eyes like he’s some poor naïve innocent fool. Okay well scratch the poor part. He is naïve. You haven’t decided whether or not he’s a fool yet.  
  
Perhaps you’re a fool for giving a shit.  
  
“Dammit..” Throwing the sheets off you sit up, hair sticking up in ways it shouldn’t. You need, no. You want to talk to someone instead of spending the next few hours reciting an internal monologue inside your fucking head. Maybe you can just bang your head against the headboard and knock yourself unconscious.  
  
You received a voicemail from the naïve prince about an hour after he left.  
  
You deleted it.  
  
Head fuzzy you stumble across your room, head down stairs twice, visit the kitchen to only forget what you were doing and then return five minutes later for some water before settling back in bed, legs crossed, a texting apparatus in your hand.  
You don’t use it much, technology is kind of dumb. Rather talk to someone face to face verses looking at a small screen but it’s come in handy.  
  
A gift from Lumpy Space Prince after you hung out at a party. Which, well, is really fucking weird. Does he just have a bunch that he gives out? You felt kind of weird taking it at first but it lets you talk to Fionna without being scolded.  
  
Every now and then she’ll forget but Fionna began locking her windows. Smart girl.  
  
You stare. A minute goes by, then two. A glance at the clock says its past two AM. Might as well.  
  
M:  hey  
Fi:Hi Marshall  
M:well well well  
M:someones up past their bed time  
M:what happened to my good little girl?  
Fi: I will get an umbrella, walk over to your little house and smack you upside the head   
M:wow sleep deprived you is great fionna  
Fi:Excuse you, this is Cake. Fionna is asleep.

  
You make a face and pause, well, that explains the sass. You contemplate putting your phone down, although, talking to cake might be a better idea. As if the universe is responding your phone lights up with blue text.

Fi:How’d the concert go?   
M:oh it was wonderful  
M:truly great  
M:we’ll be totally inseparable  
Fi:Uh, you can quit with the sass and sarcasm.  
M:it was fucking terrible okay?  
M:I get Fionna was trying to help but if she thinks we could seriously get along  
M:hah . .

Then she might be as naïve as Gumball is. A perfect fucking match.

Fi:Oh I know, I heard.  
Fi:You got pretty upset huh?

Wonderful.

M:what’d he say?  
Fi:Oh no.  
Fi:No, no, no.  
Fi:I am not being ya’lls little messenger you hear me?  
M:so basically cried and called me the big bad wolf  
Fi:I think he feels bad hun.  
M:cool  
M:the dick leaves and when he  
M:gets lost im who gets blamed  
M:not gonna be okay with that. i was fine with taking him  
M:i was fine testing the waters but its not gonna work  
Fi:Marshall  
M:fionna can have both of us okay!  
M:but we’re not gonna be some big happy family  
M:she tried and it didn’t work alright?  
M:lets just drop it.  
Fi:You seem pretty upset.  
M:well i kinda am   
Fi:Try again? You can’t expect it to be perfect the first go around.

You roll your eyes, face turned into a frown.  
  
M:i didnt. look i dont want to be friends  
M:was i okay with the idea?  
M:sure but why the hell do I have to do the work?  
M:screw it.  
  
Cake’s response, as you suspected, is the continued argument that you just need to give it another go. That Fionna would be so happy if you two could just get along. You don’t bother checking the rest of your texts and opt for tossing your phone to the side.  
  
A few minutes of pass and silence settles in the air before it’s interrupted by ringing.  
  
“Hello?”

“Marhsall Less, you listen to me right now.”  
  
“Cak—“  
  
“No. I swear you hold your mouth for five minutes.”  
  
You can’t help but flinch slightly through the phone. This conversation doesn’t sound like much fun and you’d rather just hang up and go to sleep (Or try to.) But you have a feeling Fionna’s speech would be much worse so you figuratively buckle in and remain silent.  
  
“Now you best listen up alright?”  
  
“You can cut out the tough boy stuff right now. You might be scary—“  
  
You roll your eyes.  
  
“But I’ve seen you and you know what I see?”  
  
“what.”  
  
“Someone sad.”  
  
“Cake, can you even hear yourself right?” You force out a laugh as if it’s the dumbest idea in the world. As if there’s no way in the world you could ever be close to sad.  
  
“Marshall.”  
  
The tone in her voice makes you swallow.  
  
“If you put in some effort—“  
“He hates me.”  
“You make it easy for him!”  
  
“I gotta go.”  
  
“Just try. You’d be surprised.”  
  
“Goodnight Cake.”  
  
You hang up before she can respond, you’ll get a punch in the arm the next time you see her but the conversation has twisted your stomach into something uncomfortable and you don’t feel like continuing it much further.  
  
It sounds like Gumball already talked to them. Fuck. Fionna’s gonna be pissed. Maybe you’ll just stay at home for a little while. Could go travel some. Not like you’re really bound to anything. Never have been. Aside from well, no, there’s nothing more to the Ice Queen now a days. If there was maybe you would have talked to her instead.  
  
You curl back into bed, laying on your side, brain fuzzier after the conversation you had with Cake. Of course it had the opposite effect you were hoping for. You don’t plan on extending some sort of olive branch. Gumball is a giant fuckass with a candy cane stuck up his butt, but he seemed okay aside from stuck up. Or decent at least. Judgmental as all hell considering how first impressions went.  
  
You wouldn’t have minded becoming friends, acquaintances maybe. Guess that ship’s sailed.  
  
You fall asleep with an unpleasant pounding in your head accompanied by a certain sort of distaste in your stomach.  
  
                                                                                            - **Let the Vampire sleep** -   
  


When you wake the sun is just starting to leak through your windows. Or maybe that’s what woke you. You can hear the light chatter of birds outside. You’re still in the shirt Marshall gave you. The one that’s too big for you and looks out of place draped across your torso. You tell yourself you were just too tired to change. You were. 

Getting out of bed you quickly strip out of last night’s clothes and throw them into your closet, pushing the black out of your sight and out of your mind. 

If you had to describe last night you’d say it was a wreck. After getting home you talked to Fionna. She seemed, well, for the most part she seemed relatively sympathetic. Judging by muffled comments and disagreements Cake was also listening. At least Fionna had the sense to agree you on the others behavior. Even if your telling of the story was a bit uh, skewed. But there’s no way to stop that! That’s not something you can really help is it? 

You went home feeling like shit from the experience and Marshalls treatment. Seriously? Without the decency of looking at you. Heck he slammed the door in your face! Whatever reservations of sympathy and guilt you held the night before disappeared, wiped away in sleep. Though you may have forced the feelings away as well. No matter, you have other matters to attend to. 

You should maybe apologize. 

You decide you won’t. That involves actually talking to the guy, you’d really rather not. Busying yourself is easy enough with the prosperity of the Candy Kingdom in mind. The banana guards as well as the police force need to have a meeting. Ever sense the incident with Fionna you’ve been trying to pin down the elusive ‘apple’ trade. It died down for a while but word is it’s picked up again. 

While smuggled diamonds are not at the top of your troubles it’s still something that needs to be addressed. Luckily the Ice Queen has kept her distance as of late. There have been no freak accidents that have ended with you in a cage waiting for Fionna to come and help you out. 

She really is great, you feel bad that she has to come and rescue you all the time. Well, not all the time but enough that you’ve gone out of your way several times to acknowledge and recognize her good deeds and reward such acts. She’s been happy with any sort of food and weaponry you have to offer. You once suggested going out on a picnic but she got well, really weirded out by the idea. Cake gave it a big fat no and you dropped the subject with no resistance. 

Getting up isn’t difficult but it makes you acknowledge the pain in your sides and calves. Being pushed around wasn’t exactly fun. 

You go about your regular routine. Get up, brush your teeth, shower, and eat breakfast. Review your schedule of business and adjust it accordingly while spending time with Mint Maid. You consider her one of your right hand mans – er, gals. 

A week goes by and you don’t hear anything from Marshall. At first you’d thought he might send some sort of apology, or at least talk to you. After a few days you forgot the incident all together. The shirt now hanging in the back of your closet. 

His name only came up when you went to a lost springs with Fionna and Cake. 

“Gumball! Oh my gosh, what’s that!” 

“Hm?” 

In the midst of shrugging off your shirt you glance down to yourself in confusion. You don’t find whatever it is that’s so gasp worthy. 

“You’re back!” 

Oh, well of course you can’t see it, you don’t have eyes on the back of your head. Shrugging it off Cake pads her way over with the flip phone she’s begun toting around. You raise a brow as she circles around you mimicking the sound Fionna just made. You hear a snap and a phone is being shoved into your hand. 

On the screen is an image of your back, below your shoulder bone there’s a bloom of color ranging from dark purple to red, mapping across the space behind your ribs. Was that from the concert? . . . You know that being pushed and shoved together hurt quite a bit but you don’t think it was that bad! Glob the skin must have been black if it was still this dark! While holding the phone a notification pops up. Huh, one new text from Marshall Lee. Your lips drop into a frown and you quickly push the phone back into Cake’s paws. She makes a face and glances your way in suspicion. You play innocent and Fionna is left oblivious to the silent exchange. 

However she continues to look at you expectantly for an answer concerning the rather extreme bruise. Uh. Shuffling your way toward the water’s edge you lower yourself to sit on the ledge, feet hanging in the water. Shit. She’s still staring at you, eyes glaring in suspicion. You’ve been silent too long. You think she already knows the answer. Of course she knows the answer! She’s waiting for you to say it. 

Caving you let out a sigh, “It was, it was from the concert alright?” 

The sigh she lets out is near explosive and the way her cheeks puff up bring a chuckle to your lips. 

“It’s fine really! I couldn’t even feel it. I didn’t even know it was there!” You really don’t feel like talking about the concert again. Talking about the concert means you’ll have to talk about Marshall Lee. Talking about Marshall Lee will sour your mood and leave a confused train of thought in your head. Sadly it seems like things are not in your favor with these two girls. 

While lost in your thought Fionna has come up and now has her arms crossed and lain across the top of your thighs. A determined look in her eyes. Your cheeks flush. It isn’t sexual persay, that thought in itself is silly. It’s merely the close contact. You’re not one to have ever been feely touchy. It doesn’t help that you blush easily. Luckily Fionna now knows this is typical with you—

Hey.

Wait a minute. Realization sparks across your face and you glare at her. Why the little.. You can’t be angry when a grin spread across her face. The huff of air you let out might as well serve as the white flag of surrender. She’s become quite convincing in some matters of conversation. 

“We can go kick his butt for you.” The image makes you laugh. Her wiggling eyebrows make you laugh harder. Cake clears her throat and sends Fionna a look that you can’t decipher the meaning of. Apparently Fionna can, and the easy grin falls from her lips. 

The mood shifts into more serious matter. 

Oh. Okay. They’re trying to make progress. Mentally preparing yourself takes a matter of thirty seconds. The possible paths in this conversation running through your head. The majority are unappealing. 

“I don’t suppose you’ve tried talking to him.” 

“That is the correct assumption.” 

She groans and finally returns your personal space. 

“God Gumball, you’re being a major weenie you know that right!” You snort at the comment, rolling your eyes lightly with the slightest smile spread across your lips. She knows how to lighten the mood of tense topics in most situations. 

“But not the prince of weenies.” 

“Might as well be.” 

When you splash water in Cakes direction she lets out a yelp and scurries away death glare shooting your way after that little stunt. 

“Okay, so I admit maybe I should have warned you about the concert..” 

She winces at the look you send. No kidding. 

“I didn’t think it would be that bad! Really! But I honestly don’t think you should give up!” Whatever cheer she worked in dies. Patience running out with the sigh you make. 

“Give up on what? Trying to make nice so we can all hang out?” 

“Yes!” 

“Fionna I really don’t believe that’s a realistic expectation. He’s rude and..” Trailing off in frustration you look away to avoid a knowing set of eyes. Immature, and rude, and careless. . . Somehow you lose the vindictive to finish the sentence. The words feeling hollow now when the used to spill off your tongue with such ease. Somehow you manage to ignore the idea that the description isn’t true. 

Your silence isn’t filled and while the rush of water is calming it begins to urk you. Brows furrowing without actual thought. “I don’t like him and I don’t feel like being around when he is alright? End of discussion. I appreciate that you want everyone to be friends Fionna. I really do.” 

She opens her mouth to interject but you hold up your hand signaling her to wait. 

“It’s an admiral trait, but you have to realize it is not a realistic one.” 

You don’t like being the reason she frowns but you stick to your speech. 

“There are simply some people you cannot make peace with. Take the Ice Queen for example! Would you really want to call her friend?” She’s not Marshall Lee though. Cake mutters something you choose to ignore, spending your focus solely on Fionna. It looks like she wants to say something by the way her forehead furrows. You think triumphantly that you’ve won this conversation until the expression turns to irritation. 

“No, that’s—that’s stupid!” 

Eyes widening you nearly gape at her. This is the closest you’ve been to an actual argument. 

“No! Listen! I don’t like the Ice Queen either, but that doesn’t mean Marshall’s a bad guy. Heck he’s friends with her! Though, well I can’t really understand why but—“ 

You take her distraction to pull the conversation back into your control. The comment somehow irritating you. 

“Why would I want to be friends with someone who’s friends with a woman who’s kidnapped me? Multiple names might I add!” Your refuse to be swayed. 

Sensing this she throws up her hands in frustration and grumbles at you. The atmosphere is uncomfortable for a bit but Cake remedies things when she pushes you into the water. 

Fionna drops the topic thankfully, you don’t really like arguing, especially when it comes to who you spend your time talking to. The three of you spend the rest of the afternoon swimming, or, you and Fionna do the swimming. Cake seems happily occupied with her phone. Tapping away at the keyboard. You have the feeling she’s texting Marshall Lee. You hope you’re wrong. This would be one of the rare times you dread being right. 

Patting dry with a towel the sun is beginning to descend and you announce that you should be heading home soon. The girls understand and offer smiles. It’s as if the conversation discussing Marshall never happened and to be honest you’re ecstatic. 

“Oh, hey! I wanted to let you know the LSP invited us to a party.” 

You promptly raise a brow in confusion. “Isn’t he living in the woods..?” 

She gives a shrug, the universal non-verbal sign of ‘I don’t know’ 

“I’m sure it won’t make a difference! Anyway we want you to come.” 

Your shoulders relax as you give the two a wry smile. “When is it?” 

“Uh, sometime next week I think! Either way you’re coming!” Excitement is practically radiating off Fionna while Cake looks just as amused as you do. So of course you play a good sport and nod along in agreement. 

“Oh, and Marshall Lee is coming.” 

“What!” 

“Can’t back out! Cake can text you the details later! Bye Gumball!” 

Before you can voice your complaints the two have absconded and you get the feeling they planned this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pst, tell me what you're thinking so far maybe?  
> Gonna try and keep things in Gumballs perspective verse switching back and forth.  
> Or is switching okay?


	4. You'll Think Twice In The Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silence aside from water hitting the linoleum tile. Your hands move up to your eyes rubbing the sockets as you let your back slide down till you're sitting in a tight fit shower. 
> 
> “Fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually really kind of like how this chapter came out.  
> Though I should probably like all my chapters. Oh well.  
> I take showers when I'm upset.  
> Hopefully these guys like each other at some point huh.  
> rating changed to mature hence a load of swearing at this point.

It’s not the ideal place to be and there is something about the crowd that you find off putting. Maybe it would be different if you were oblivious to who was lingering about. You didn't have much against LSP or any of the others hanging around you're just on edge, that’s all. Although that’s not much a surprise is it? Well okay, perhaps that’s a bit critical. At the last minute mention of Marshall’s name on the guest list via Fionna and Cake you’ve been more skeptical than usual. Maybe you’re being paranoid but you have a right to not want to see him! You’re still upset about earlier! Too stubborn to apologize or ask what exactly went wrong and how can it be fixed.

 

Sighing you glance to the cup in your hand, swirling it’s content in thought. Why would you make the attempt anyway? Fionna was lost in her thought that you two might become friends. It’s a nice sentiment. The three of you getting together and having fun.

But that’s all it was. Sentiment.

 

You don’t bother realizing you’re tightened grip on the cup even as a few guests around you glance curiously and whisper. You don’t let yourself acknowledge how caught up you are on him and how strange that should be. Why do you even care! What he does shouldn’t mean anything to you. Speaking of which, you haven’t seen the elusive fiend all night. Something you’re unsure whether to feel grateful or disappointed about. The latter wouldn’t make sense though.

 

Any other thoughts might be repressed to the back of your skull, muddied and blurred by whatever’s in your cup that seems to be mixing your senses. Chemical altering liquids usually aren’t on the list of things you allow yourself to consume, but the constant laughter and music have set you on edge and most of your conversation skills have evaporated. So much for being a social leader. When had your speech gone to shit?

 

What cup are you on?

 

The trees are slightly disorienting and all you can do is think about that stupid fucking vampire who’s suddenly got your mind wrapped around his finger like a string of yarn.

 

You hate it.

 

“Hey! Gumball, what are you doing? You’ve been standing around for the past half hour!”

 

You snap out of your thoughts to find a concerned Fionna. You feel slightly bad and rub the back of your neck to show. She’s looking at you with genuine curiosity and you know all she’d like to do is help you but how do you explain the turmoil going on in your head, much less to Fionna. It’s not that you uh don’t think she’s helpful with this sort of advice but it seemed like Cake was easier to talk to than Fionna.

 

Lying isn’t so hard with a foggy head.

 

“I’m just not feeling the party ya’know?”

 

“Don’t get me wrong LSP did a great job and everything’s nice but I’m not feeling so hot.” Your acting skills might need a little work. She’s giving you a squinted glare, knows what you’re trying to pull and refuses to play into it with innocence.

 

“Is this about Marshall?”

 

There’s something exacerbated in her voice.

 

You prepare to deny it but the nod is without reason, voice not working

 

“What the heck even happened between you too? I mean, I know you texted Cake and all but you seem really upset about it.”

 

You can’t scrape up the words to reply, not deflecting the subject only allowing Fionna to further her observations on you. “I’m serious! You’re not acting like yourself and you’re doing a shit job of hiding it.” Her nose crinkles at taking a look down your cup. She’s disappointed, there’s no doubt. It’s written on her face and you can’t tell exactly how you feel about it. Sad maybe? You don’t like being looked at with pity.

 

“Do you even want to be here? I think you’re being dumb and both need to get off your high horses about this but if you’re going to drink and mope maybe you should just head home..” There’s something incredibly hollow in that voice and you feel your mood drop further than it already lays.

 

Here you are near obsessing over someone who may or may not be asshole, drinking at a party and you haven’t even been provoked. There hasn’t been one sight of this guy and if the universe were being sick it would all be some prank of paranoia to say he’s there and get you all hung up on a non-issue. You can’t say for sure you’re an obsessive person but for sure sometimes you think too much.

 

Despite the good advice that you know you should you stick around, maybe drink some more. Dance a little, talk to LSP who seems to love how 'relaxed' you are. You don’t tell him it’s the bubbles going to your head. He doesn’t appear to care about the cause rather than the effect. After a few more cups you finally spot Marshall with some people you don’t much recognize. Though you can’t say you particularly care who he’s with.

You’re staring.

 

He turns his head and appears to be completely fine. Though you’re lagging senses have left you a bit oblivious to your obviousness. Marshall does next to nothing. He doesn’t approach you. Doesn’t flip you off. Just stares with a furrowed brow and thin set of lips. You can’t help but feel like he’s judging you. The next time you look over his face is passive and he spares you no second glance. You decide not to stay long enough to look into a third.

 

You ignore your name being called by someone nearby, you think you can recognize the voice but you're leaking into a semi-drunken tunnel vision on getting away from this dumb party. You jump when a figure appears before you. Moving too fast for you to catch. Of course the cloaked shadows happen to surround Marshall. You roll your eyes. Or at least you think you roll them. It's kind of hard to tell. His eyes share the look Fionna gave you mixed with something else and it's frustrating.

 

"whattya want?" you didn't know your words were that slurred, your tongue feels heavier than usual. Whatever sympathy Marshall might have held disappears from his eyes as he stares arms crossed. The stance alone aggravates you.

 

"You’re really drunk aren't ya?" He seems somewhat surprised. The glare you send earns a scoff.

 

"You're friends are kinda concerned about you asshole." He nods behind you and it looks like Fionna is attempting to look busy. She's doing a decent job, than again you are out of it. Marshall probably doesn't seem impressed with the girls snooping. He looks annoyed to even be in this situation. Who could blame though?

 

"Yeah so-hic!" you blink a bit surprised by the hiccup.

 

Marshall rolls his eyes and moves to help you stand, arm around your shoulder supporting most of your weight despite your protest as you try and push him off but for a lean figure he seems to be pretty strong and ignores your childlike protest with little more than a frown and annoyed glance.

 

Flying isn’t an option this time, you’re much too out of things to cooperate airborne or not and he seems to know that so there you are stumbling through the woods like a couple of jackasses.

Eventually your persistent wiggling gets to him and he lets you go leaving you to fall on your ass.

 

“Dammit Gumball can’t you just let me help you? Is it really that fucking hard for you to stop being an asshole?” Oh. He sounds really upset, eyes seemingly brighter against the sky, teeth more noticeable. You stare back dumbly before registering the words completely. Stubbornness seems to be a trait you cannot part with, you try to get up on your own but wind up stumbling a bit and falling again. How much did you drink again? You can’t remember. There’s a bitter laugh and your anger boils. All this trouble over a giant prick.

 

A sigh followed the laugh and hands are on you again pulling you up but you quickly lash away stumbling back managing not to fall on your ass this time.

 

“Don’t touch me! I don’t need your help!” Your words are still slurred but seem to be more precise.

 

“You’re literally drunk off your ass, do you really want to crawl around the woods? I told Fionna I’d get you back home.” You cling to this, Fionna, that’s it. He’s just doing this for her.

 

“I bet you’d have fun with that! To see me stumble and get lost.” You always forget how venomous you can be until the poison returns. He looks confused. Playing dumb. Does he think you’re this dumb?

 

“What the fuck is your damage! No, I think you’re a giant fucking asshole but I told my friend I’d get your pathetic ass home and I’m gonna keep that promise.” He manages to match your intensity, though he’s more crisp and to the point. Logic isn’t much of an option at the moment and you don’t really foresee the consequences of continuing to yell.

 

Watching through narrowed eyes he runs a hand through his hair, huffing out an annoyed sigh as if trying to calm down. Try and deal with you. Every little motion gives you something to criticize. The glow in his eyes is gone and he’s moved back to your side grabbing your wrist moving to wrap it back around his neck but you jerk away, prepared this time.

 

“I said don’t touch me! I don’t need your help. Glob why can’t you understand that? I don’like you! I don’t wanna be near you!”

 

“Gumball—“

 

“NO! You listen to me! I can take care of m’self! I don’t need some blood guzzling monster to walk me home. We’re not friends!” You’re voice cracks somewhere in that sentence and you don’t get an echoed response. Huffing and pushing pink out of your sight you meet an expression unlike before.

 

You don’t like it.

 

It doesn’t look good on him. The wide eyes don’t match his exterior. He looks startled, caught off guard and... Vulnerable. Standing lips parted to shoot back a defense but he isn’t saying anything. He’s just looking at you hurt and confused. There’s no cocky expression, no superior gaze. Just shock.

 

What did you say? What just happened? He’s not supposed to get hurt. Marshall Lee’s supposed to be an invincible asshole. He’s not supposed to have feelings. In panic you rewind stuttering for a reason and your voice seems to echo the word monster.

 

You just called him a monster. Once again you’ve proven that you aren’t a good person.

 

"M-Marshall, Heyy Marshall listen..” You don’t know what to say after that.

 

He doesn’t seem surprised, the expression is no longer there and is replaced by stone. You want to be relieved but you don’t think you art.

 

“No. No. Even in your drunken stupor you’re right.” You flinch at the lack of spite.

 

“We’re not friends. Hell I’ll leave you alone, that’s obviously what you want.” You see him turn his back beginning to walk away. After six steps he stops as if to think and turns on his heel, the impassive expression turned to anger and hurt and you’re not sure how to process it at this point.

 

“Actually, you know what. We could be. We could fucking get along but you have to be so fucking superior to anyone who’s different than you! Yeah! I drink blood! I’M A VAMPIRE WHAT DO YOU EXPECT!”

 

You take a step back as he steps forward.

 

“That doesn’t mean I kill people! That doesn’t make me a monster! You’re a fucking hypocrite. You’re a judgmental fucking—naghh!” You can’t interpret the turmoil happening on his face. He seems to have fallen away from his anger somewhat. “You know what, I’m done. I quit. I don’t know what I ever fucking saw in you. You’re a Joke Gumball.” It’s like you’d be plucked up chewed and spat out.

 

You can’t focus on what he’s saying anymore other than the fact that he’s upset. You won’t know how to justify it when you’re sober but some force in the universe pushes you forward and you’re lips are crashing onto his. Hands clinging to the front of his shirt.

 

You taste too sweet. Count five seconds and you’re easily shoved off. That confused hurt expression has returned with a flash of anger. He slaps you and the sting leaves your cheek a flush red. After which you can’t see him. Leaving you to only contemplate what happened. You don’t even need to sober up to begin panicking. Why did you just kiss him? What in any sense made you think kissing him was a good idea? You stammer out of the woods and turn your feet in the direction of the candy kingdom but you black out soon after that. Vision blurring and fading to black. You think you hear murmuring or whispers of some sort but they’re too difficult to make out and you’re not sure you want to know what's being said.  
  
You seriously gummed up.

  
  
\--- **Be the upset vampire** \---

  
  
“You said you’d make sure he got home!”  
  
“Something came up.”  
  
“Well I can see that now Marshall! I mean his face was bright red and he was laying in the grass!”  
  
“Oh, so with the dirt and worms? Sounds perfect.”  


“You’re lucky we even found him when we left Marshall.”  
  
You scowl at her pacing and cross your arms, sinking further into the couch, legs curled up. The party was fine, hell you even enjoyed it until you had to babysit.  
  
“Marshall.. Look I seriously don’t know what’s going on..”  
  
“No, you don’t!” Snapping is unintentional and your teeth automatically retract, biting your lip you curl up tighter, glancing away. Your eyes are red, you’d argue ‘they’re always fucking red that’s there color’ but it might be more than just that, and it’s certainly not from some sort of sleeplessness.  
  
Though in truth you could sleep for days after this shit storm. He kissed you, he fucking kissed you the slimy fuck.  
  
Tasted like sugar and something else.  
  
Bitter would be too dumb a comparison and you’re up to your head in possible clichés you don’t need one more. Fionna’s still talking and you know you’re being a dickhead by not listening but your thoughts are being too loud, hard to ignore. Similar to the hangover you imagine some prick will be having by tomorrow morning.  
  
“What did he do?!” She’s looking at you intently and you figure the blonde might be up for smacking you around to get an answer.  
  
“Something stupid.” The annoyed groan makes your lip quirk upward.  
  
“Maaaarrshaaall.” You roll your eyes at the whine and attempt at a puppy face. Fionna’s too cute for her own good when she wants to be and you fuck up her hair in retaliation to the universe. Much better. As predicted you’re smacked in the arm. With a sigh you give in rolling over so you don’t have to watch her reaction.  
  
“Basically don’t go walking up that alley if you’re looking for a date.” The words are a bit too sharp but you hear her confusion anyway.  
  
“What do you mean.. Like, was he hitting on you?”  


You roll your eyes not wanting to deal with this. “Yeah, right on the mouth.”  
  
It takes a couple seconds, three.  
  
Two.  
  
One.  
  
“OH MY GLOB!” in disgruntled distress you’re turned around and met with Fionna’s wide eyed gaze. You’d say for a second she looked mighty excited but then it’s gone and she just looked surprised. It’s as if you can see the pieces lock together in her eyes, information all lining up to paint some giant picture that had been overlooked before.  
  
You’d laugh if she were shocked to hear he liked dudes.  
  
He does like dudes doesn’t he? He kissed you, dunk sure but even before you’d have commented on it in your head.  
  
“Uh, Fionna, you good there?” You raise a brow not particularly up for ooing and ahing over the prince’s sexuality. It’s not that special. Thankful Fionna either agrees or can sense that you’re a bit more than testy right now. You think it’s the latter. Fingers tapping you decide to steer the conversation since she won’t.  
  
“Did you talk to him about it?” Even though this appeared to be the first she’d heard about the event.  
  
You raise a brow at the color in her cheeks, she looks awfully uncomfortable rubbing her neck. “Uh, I don’t think he was really himself.”  
  
You frown, “hm.” nod and dismiss it with distaste.  
  
That’s all you can really describe yourself at the moment. Full of distaste. Which is kind of bullshit because at one point you would have been down with macking on Gumball. With a bit too much haste you sit up and start heading up stairs, Fionna follows in confusion. She came without Cake. Though you and the cat get along you think she doesn’t really ‘love’ your company. You couldn’t much care.  
  
“Close your eye’s sweet cheeks.” Your voice lazily. She lets out a confused sound but once you start peeling off your shirt Fionna get the idea and covers her eyes with a ‘gross!’ turning around swiftly while you head into the bathroom, turn on the shower and step inside. The water heats up quickly and soon steam is soon floating around you and fogging up the bathroom. It burns and if someone looked they’d see your skin turning pink but the pain is mild, in fact it feels good. Not so much in a masochistic sense but just a raw feeling sorta way.  
  
“Uhh..”  
  
She’s still here.  
  
“What?”  
  
“You alright in there? It’s kind of, seems like the waters pretty hot.”  
  
You appreciate that she’s worried and all but you don’t feel like having a therapy session. You snap back a not so nice remark and get a grumble in return. There’s footsteps and a goodbye before the door audibly closes.  
  
Silence aside from water hitting the linoleum tile. Your hands move up to your eyes rubbing the sockets as you let your back slide down till you're sitting in a tight fit shower.  
  
“Fuck.”  
  
He’s an asshole. An unbelievable asshole and you just want to know whether it was deliberate or if he was just too drunk to realize what he was doing. Absent mindedly your fingers trail upward to trace your bottom lip lightly. You wouldn’t mind punching him in the jaw right about now but the heat is finally getting to you a bit and you move to wash your hair, rinse off with some cold water and get out wrapped in a towel.  
  
Fionna left a little fairwell message on the mirror and you can’t tell whether you want to laugh or scowl.  
  
“ _Sorry he’s been a butt, I’ll talk to him, you’re both pains in the ass, love fi.”_  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can thank 8tracks.com for just about any and all of my motivation.  
> and a thanks to koizumi for their comment  
> it made me sit my butt down and actually write something.


	5. I've called myself young and stupid,  But lately I feel old and desperate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You don’t bother talking to Fionna. No point in catching up with her. Not that you dislike the blonde's company. Infact, an adventure might be really fucking fun right now. The perfect distraction. Exactly what you need. Except for one tiny factor. 
> 
> A certain prince, a certain prince who will not for the death of you leave your head alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back kind of??   
> It's been a while. I'm trying to go through the past chapters and revamp them a bit since whenever I take a break from something I begin to hate it. 
> 
> I sincerely hope to make this a completed fic. I have a general sense of where I want it to end. Hopefully my writing has gotten better, that'd definitely be nice. As for why I've finally updated? Well, once I was able to push past the cringing I can see that I left it off at a juicy bit - the hurt and drama just beginning to bubble and junk. Also a few comments and perhaps the fact that people still read this fic for some reason. I honestly have never read another gumlee fic. I probably should at some point. 
> 
> Hopefully this isn't disappointing, I'll try not to take so much time between update this time.
> 
> Chapter title taken from the song Sixteen by Real Friends.

You don’t bother talking to Fionna. No point in catching up with her. Not that you dislike the blonde's company. Infact, an adventure might be really fucking fun right now. The perfect distraction. Exactly what you need. Except for one tiny factor. 

A certain prince, a certain prince who will not for the death of you leave your head alone. 

He kissed you. Why did he kiss you? 

If you talked to Fionna, you’d have to address it. After all, she’s probably talked to him about it. If you bothered to check your answering machine you’d find multiple messages from her. Some concerned, other’s annoyed. You listened to one, heard his name, then put down the phone. Could say that you’ve been screening the human's calls. Texting doesn’t work much either. Might as well turn the device off. 

It must have been his lips, infecting your mind. It wasn’t happy, you’re not _happy_. You’re miserable and it’s all his fault. You feel sick. You’ve been ignoring your friends. Writing more music, playing more songs, digging yourself further and further into this hole of thought.

The fucker hasn’t even tried apologizing to you. Nothing. Why do expect him to apologize? Why do you expect him to care? He’s an asshole and oh glob something in your chest hurts at the thought of pink skin and purple blue eyes. Pale lithe fingers reach up, it’s almost symbolic the way in which you’re clutching the plaid fabric of your shirt. You’re lying down on carpet. Your name is Marshall Lee, you’ve let some fuckwad completely ruin you. 

Symbolic. Hand clenching the fabric above your heart. You wish it was literal. You wish you could literally pull your heart from inside your chest and send it all nice and packaged to the prince’s door. Except your heart doesn’t even beat. The metaphor is broken because he can’t even make your pulse skip. You don’t have one. 

Now if only you felt heartless. 

Rolling over you stare beneath the couch. Dust bunnies hiding away there. He’s probably doing fine. Out with friends, out with Fionna and Cake. Fulfilling the duties of the Candy Kingdom. At least, you don’t think it’s gone up in flames yet. Why does he get to continue on while you’re here on the fucking carpet? 

He probably doesn’t remember. He was so wasted that night. Stumbling and cursing. 

_“-I don’t need some blood guzzling monster to walk me home!-”_

The words are still clear, crystal. A twisted melody longing to be translated into notes spread out across pages. Harmonized to key and played on loop. Blinking, the fan above catches your attention. You don’t drink blood. It’s just another point in proving he doesn’t know you. Doesn’t deserve all the mental exhaustion you’re pouring out. You hate him, except you don’t. There’s no point of clarity explaining this either. Nothing you can grab hold of to determine _why_ you let Gumball torture your head. 

You’re not in love with him. Maybe you enjoy the idea of him, but, this isn’t love. 

“..Fucking hell.” You groan, palms of your hands going to bury themselves against your eye sockets until there’s a clash of purples and greens behind closed eyes. Fuck him. Just fuck him and fuck you for ever wanting him. For ever debating the idea that he might grow to like you. Not even in a romantic sense. He couldn’t even be bothered to be friends. It hurts. It hurts because you thought he was better than that. You let yourself judge him, evaluate him to be a pushover, but a kind pushover in all. If not a bit of a snob. That was your mistake surely. Not even friends, not even for Fionna. 

Sitting up you stand, the anger inside you smoldering, cooking there for the past days while you continued to have these inner debates. You gotta get out of here. You gotta move. The air inside your cavern is slightly dry. It hasn’t rained. Shifting form you take to the sky. Stars blinking overhead. The moon hidden behind clouds of grey. You enjoy the cover of darkness. Wind biting at your wings, hitting your face and cooling your skin. The scream you let out is nothing more than vibrations. A reflection of the past days. Too stubborn to seek help despite the hands reaching out to you, screaming without an audience. 

The lights below you are yellows and pinks, light blues. Warm colors. It makes you feel sick, pushing past the lights of the Candy Kingdom. If you went there you’d only be weak, crumble down in front of someone who probably hates your guts. It’s dark and cold. Land of Ooo changing beneath you. Various places you could probably go, probably get help. Bars and club, stages and shows you could pour out anger. It passes by in blurs. When you finally stop flying the air is cold and uninviting. Attacking whoever dare arrive under dressed. You don’t speak to the Ice Queen often. She doesn’t remember who she used to be. In some ways it fits, when all you want to do right now is forget. 

The sheets of ice are cold and beautiful, reflecting the tiniest bits of light, transforming it into a ray of dark colors. 

 

Surprisingly she’s awake. Penguins already making a ruckus as you enter an open window. Transforming once more.

There’s a shriek when you find her. A mixture of excitement and fear. 

“Marshall! Wait, what are you doing here? How did you get past the guards? I haven’t done anything to anyone, so you can just leave!” The words all said in one breath, it sort of makes you smile. Shrugging you wave a little, wishing she remembered you were friends. “Can’t I say hi?” It should be impossible to sound so calm. Maybe the crazy waves are neutralizing your anger. 

“I- What? Say Hi? Why would you do that?” She pouts, brows furrowing with a set of crossed arms to complete the look. “Friendly terms?” She questions before giving you a chance to respond. After nodding there’s a slight transformation as the Ice Queen’s expression shifts into something happier. Albeit sorta manic. “Oh, well then.. Why didn’t you say so? Oh this is going to be so much fun!” Slight smile to your face your feet touch the ground. “You should have told me you were coming I would have made snacks!” Somehow you manage to knock her crazy down just a notch. 

The two of you eventually sitting down to watch a movie. You steal a coat because it’s kind of cold. Before pressing play something odd happened. The air feels lighter and the Ice Queen is staring at you with an expression that’s almost lucid. 

You can’t help but feel a tug on your chest. That’s another story of hurt you don’t want to shovel into. “Why are you here?” 

Seconds trickle by in wake of your silence, a suffocating amount of thoughts hitting you all at once. Before it gets awkward you manage a response. “To spend time with you nerd.” She seems pleased by the answer. 

She’s the only person you can really think of who won’t suffocate you with thoughts of him.   
You could use a friend right now.   
You don’t want to be alone.


	6. Fucking you up, bringing you down and I won't feel guilty at all when I'm done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So.. What do you say?” “Hm?” Weight switching between feet in an outward appearance of nerves you let out a soft sigh. “Do you forgive me?” It’s hesitant but she nods. “Well, yeah dude of course. Why wouldn’t I?” The air a bit too heavy, silence uncomfortable. “Did you get Marshall Lee anything?” And that, that is what confuses you. An eyebrow raising.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of wanted to make the aftermath thoughts of Marshall and Gumball separate to contrast each other which is partially why this chapter seems so short. 
> 
> Title from Leaving in the morning by Artist vs Poet

How can you not feel just a little guilty, you don’t remember everything that happened the night at the party, it got fuzzy around the time that Fionna had to drag you home on cake. She was pretty mad actually after actually getting back home. You wore a red burning across your left cheek. That slap had been deserved most likely. 

Unfortunately you do manage to remember Marshall. Not what prompted you two to talk, but he was trying to get you somewhere, there was yelling, he didn’t fight back. You kissed him. He slapped you. 

It’s something that sits in the back of your mind as you work. Locking yourself in the labs for a few days to perfect the prototype gelatin armor substance that you had Fionna test. Huh, that’s when this mess started wasn’t it? You don’t think about that, it doesn’t really matter anyway. It was merely a kiss, it meant nothing and you were a little past drunk. 

After a few failed batches you manage to get the recipe down right and jar a few dozen ounces of the material. You push the vampire to the back of your mind and package the jars in a basket before calling your bird The Marrow and heading towards Fionnas. You haven’t really apologized yet after hurling yourself into the labs. You’re hoping this helps win over the blondes forgiveness. What would you do if Fionna stayed mad at you? Glob that would be awful. You don’t think about it and instead make your way to her door. 

“Fionna?” On the third knock she answered, an eyebrow raised at who might be at the door. You know that sometimes the Ice Queen shows up. 

“Oh! Gumball, hey man come on in.” Something in her voice seems forced, rigid. You feel a bit of guilt twist in your stomach. “Nice of you to stop by, me and Cake were worried about you! And then Peppermint Maid was saying you were busy and junk when we came by? I actually wanted to talk to you, so good timing.” Talk to you about what? 

“Oh, right.. I’m sorry about that too, I didn’t do well letting you know I was alright but I am!” When you smile her eyebrows crinkle and twitch in confusion before smoothing out. You can’t think why. “As for why I didn’t get in touch,” you pull the basket from behind your back and present it to her. “Ta-da~” Her reaction is, anticlimactic. Not disappointing, as Fionna does seem to grin and take the basket with what you think’s excitement. Sometime between taking the basket and inspecting a jar her enthusiasm fades, once again, you don’t know why. It creates a frown of confusion. 

“This is the stuff you showed me that night Marshall came over right?” The added detail offsets you. 

“Well, yes.” Annoyance slips into your voice without permission. Why did she even have to mention him? You don’t give her the chance to continue - don’t wanna lose track of what you’re here to do. 

“I wanted to apologize-” “Apologize?” “-Yes,” You nod in confirmation, ignoring the mixture of skepticism painted across her features. “I feel really bad about what happened at the party, I acted irresponsibly and that in turn affected you, having to drag me home and all.” She pauses not saying anything in response. Eyes veering away, you might think she was ignoring you. It hurts a little, you had never known Fionna as one to hold a grudge. This certainly isn’t the worst thing you’ve done to her, is it? After an incredibly long silence she responds. Lips twitching into a light smile. “Thanks Gumball, I appreciate it, let me go put these down though, they’re sorta heavy." 

Following her into the living room you spot Cake out the corner of your eye with a newspaper in hand, though it looks as if she may have been listening to your exchange. Not that it matters of course. Except.. 

“So.. What do you say?” “Hm?” Weight switching between feet in an outward appearance of nerves you let out a soft sigh. “Do you forgive me?”

That same confused expression appears on her face, some sort of battle happening in the girl’s head as she stares at you as if you’ve grown two. It’s hesitant but she nods. “Well, yeah dude of course. Why wouldn’t I?” 

You don’t understand. 

“I’m not sure! Though you seemed a bit hesitant just now.” A nervous laugh escapes and Cake scoffs in the background. You frown, not really the visit you were expecting. Perhaps she’s been having a bad day. It’s not like you’d know. 

Even after all that, the words seem false. The air a bit too heavy, silence uncomfortable. “Did you get Marshall Lee anything?” And that, that is what confuses you. An eyebrow raising. 

“What do you mean?” 

Apparently it’s the wrong thing to say. Fionna’s crossed her arms, huffing out breath while giving you a look that sends your stomach into knots. “Well, you apologized to Marshall Lee right? I’m just wondering if you brought him something nice too.” Cake murmurs something not so nice and your mouth drops open, words escaping you. Why would she even assume that you’ve spoken to him? 

It must appear on your face that you have not, in fact, apologized to Marshall Lee or brought him a nice gift. 

Fionna sighs, moving to pinch her nose not even looking at you now. Annoyance seeping into her voice. “Gumball, why are you even apologizing to me? Like alright, I’ll admit a thank you might be nice but that’s aside the point.” 

“I don’t-”.. You fumble. 

“No, dude shuddup and listen okay?” You swallow stepping back to sit yourself down. 

“I’m not the one you need to be apologizing too right now. If I had more resolve I’d kick you out right now until you go and talk to Marshall Lee.” 

You’ve already looked away, not too adamant about the conversation at hand. 

“I really don’t see why..” 

“You can’t be serious.” 

Your brows furrow. “He should apologize for slapping me.” Comes out before you have a second to even debate the idea of feeling guilty. Maybe you should. You probably should. But you don’t. You can’t. 

“Oh my glob, Gumball you kissed him!” The words send heat across your face. Did he tell her that?

“He probably liked it.” Is murmured for your ears only but judging by the face Cake makes she heard it too. 

“Cake you agree with me right? He needs to go talk to Marshall Lee and apologize.” Cake’s moving to get on the counter where Fionna is frowning. “I think they’re both being stupid, Gumball you’re being incredibly not nice.” The words a harsh accusation. 

“Okay so what? In the end he slapped me anyway. Heck, he left me out in the woods!” The look on her face actually sort of hurts, disappointment and frustration. You hate making her upset. “Because you kissed him!” A voice wonders if she knows what you said to him as well. 

“Look, Gumball.. You _really_ hurt his feelings. . Do you, do you not get that?” At least she doesn’t sound as angry anymore. 

Wait. Eyes widening you wish she was angry. You wish she was angry instead of looking at you like you’re a sad picture of a prince. The expression is vaguely memorable, a look of confusion across the vampire's face before it had solidified. 

You don’t have a response, no comeback or excuse because she’s partially right. You did seem to hurt him. You don’t want to apologize or see his face any time soon but.. She has a point. 

“I don’t.. I don’t want to talk to him.” 

“Yeah and he probably doesn’t want to talk to you either but I’m sure he’d appreciate an apology.” Cake interjects, face holding a more neutral expression verses Fionnas. 

“It’s not going to change anything, we’re not going to be friends.” That has to be it right? She wants you two to be friends still so that she doesn’t feel so conflicted when trying to spend time with either of you. 

“Okay why does that matter? Maybe he doesn’t want to be your friend either? By the way you’re acting right now I wouldn’t.” 

“Fionna..” You start, not getting far before Cake is beside you taking your hand and guiding you to the front of the house leaving Fionna in the kitchen with a set of furrowed eyebrows. 

You’re in front of the door, this was kind of.. Actually no this was a terrible outcome. You’ll need to apologize again later. Assumably you were to be pushed out the door by Cake - not something you’d really put past the cat. Instead you’re being turned to look at her. 

“Gumball. I’m going to tell you because Fionna apparently won’t. Don’t try coming up over here until you talk to Marshall.” You want to interject but she stops you. “Hang on! Let me finish. You hurt his feelings! You hurt him bad and just because you don’t like him doesn’t mean you get to pretend you didn’t!” You’re standing outside now. “So, no Gumball, you don’t need to be friends but you do need to be a good person and at least try and own up to what you did.” 

What you did? It makes you want to scoff but you withhold the urge. Apparently you can’t settle for silence. “He hates me.” The words supposed to provide valid reason why you shouldn’t even talk to him. 

Something strange happens, instead of an angry flare Cakes expression is sad, hurt? Like there’s something you just don’t get. “Actually, I think he liked you.” Past tense stressed. “Don’t bother coming back until you’ve talked to him.” She doesn’t give you any chance of responding and is instead closing the door. 

You're left to stand outside with a confused frown and head full of questions. The idea that he likes you is dumb and dismissed.  
_you just don't get it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gumball turned into a really giant douchebag holy shit, wow
> 
> I didn't intend him to be so harsh, I really just wanted to contrast Marshalls obsession with Gumballs obliviousness (plus a little doucheness)  
> so, i mean, I guess I was pretty successful? 
> 
> Leave a kudos? 8)  
> Leave a comment to tell me how I'm fucking up your feelings?


	7. I Wasn't Going To Write a Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gumwad sucks up his pride and acts a little less like a fuckwad  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, uh, writing may have evolved a little. I tried to catch typos and grammar but I'm terrible with grammar. Sooo yay! I know i've been gone for a month or so but I'm still alive! Now I actually have a more solidified idea of what I want to accomplish by the end of this fic. 
> 
> Title taken from "Leavin' by artist vs. poet.  
> Thank you for the comments, kudos, and subscriptions <3  
> 

One can only handle the presence of someone ruled by ice and insanity for so long. This is the one thought that keeps guilt from eating you as you pack what little you brought into a tie string bag. Not to say that the visit wasn’t pleasant here and there. If not a bit painful - you expected that really. Who wouldn't be upset seeing someone who you used to be so close to, someone who cared for you, as an entirely different person? No recollection of the life they’d led before. If only the past was as reflective as the icy walls Samone has surrounded herself in. Wait, no that’s not right is it? She’s the Ice Queen now. You vaguely wonder what she would do, should she remember you that is. The fact that you two were once close friends. The fact that she wasn’t just some crazy queen. Heh. Perhaps then she’d stop kidnapping guys. You’ve successfully held off two attempts in the past five days. Would finding someone as crazy as her somehow even off the level of sanity waves, you wonder.

The days left a pretty good if not a bit worrisome impression. She’s not that bad when semi-lucid or entertained. Lately she’s been reading you some lame stories she’s conjured up. All of which ending in something sappy. Princes and boys falling and swooning of her. The quality and flatness of it all is pretty laughable.

But, like I said. One can only handle crazy for so long and with Gumball’s continuous bullshit forming stormclouds in your thoughts, the threshold was surpassed somewhere before the end of the week. You left a little before morning. Not too early to risk the sun of course. You may be reckless, but you’re not irrational, nor do you have a death wish. Perhaps it’s because you didn’t want to leave while the Ice Queen was awake in case of creating a scene of sorts. With your emotions in a mess and the unpredictability of her crazy there’s no way to really tell what would happen. As a result you don’t say goodbye. You’re not exactly what most people would call a ‘good person’. But neither was he.

The sky, as always, is inviting and mildly soothes the thoughts that have lingered the past days. When you get back to your cave you almost wish he was there waiting for you. Of course he is not, any rational person could point out he wouldn’t voluntarily apologize. It’s not in his character. Even that’s too ludicrous. Showing up and waiting for you at all would be unrealistic. You’ve already dipped your feet in the emotionally harmful thoughts of ‘feeling’ for him. It’s a dark inky pool that tempts you on occasion. You fear one day you’ll allow both feet permission to disappear and then drown. Pushing away more unrealistic thoughts you decide it doesn't hurt to imagine he’d be decent enough to try and see you. For whatever particular reason you don’t actually care. Not that a yelling match is a part of your top three - though it may prove the most plausible scenario - at least it would show that he was angry enough with you to act. Anything was better than the apparent apathy and indifference. Most likely you’re being ignored. Which would be worse? Instead, nothing is different. Perhaps you’ve gained a few more spider friends in your absence, but there’s no sign of pink hair. No sort of note. Opening the door you greet disappoint, sigh, toe off shoes and hover to the fridge. Searching for something to eat. Fruit is easy enough and it doesn’t matter whether it’s bad so long the color isn’t completely washed away from bruises. Despite the knaw in your stomach nothing seems appealing. Nothing at all. Pushing past it you wander, searching the house fully aware it will be empty, that you are alone and spending too much energy and thought on some brat. You stop in your room, picking up your bass and stringing together a few harmless melodies.

A soft hum escapes. “I~I~I.. Shouldn’t have to justify what I do, and I~I~I shouldn’t have to be the one who makes up with you. Sorry I exist, it that was landed me on your black list. . .” Your fingers falter, the sound shifts into uncomplimentary set of note. The sound awkward and unpleasant. You revert back to frustration and sigh just nearly throwing your bass from off your back. Not only does the fuckwad have your thoughts now he has to invade your music? Clearly you needed to talk to someone about this. You of course won't. It’s eating you alive. The thought of him or the fact he’s getting to your head will be the end of you for the next month or so won’t it? It’s not like you’re trying to cling to some heartbreak cliche. Though at this point perhaps you should admit that you like him more than originally thought. After all, he’s attractive. There’s something more to the thought than that, but you’re not in the right mind to place a finger on it. Not in the mind to do much of anything.

Hypocrite. You probably _did_ want to become better friends with him. Even if it was just to confirm he was the asshole he’s proven himself to be. You go to sleep. Wake an hour later. Pack a backpack yet again. A bit larger this time accompanied by your bass and hightail it. The house was too roomy and claustrophobic, too big. A contradictory kitchen floor that let you think too much. Don’t have to think much flying. You won't be gone for more than a few days, you’ve learned how to stretch hours for your own benefit.

Sitting still is too difficult a task for you. Better to cause havoc somewhere with a numb mind.

**• Make an effort in days later •**

Things have been relatively calm in the kingdom. The Ice Queen hasn’t caused much trouble lately allowing you to focus on other matters. Not that the witch held your concentration all the time, but there was a kingdom that needed to be run. Not to say your subjects were unruly and chaotic er, well at least most of them weren’t. It was a kingdom that sustained and needing only gentle guidance and protection. A role you liked to think you filled well.

You made a few calls to Fionna all of which were screened. It seems your apology was much too bittersweet to be accepted. There of course was another remaining factor that affirmed the failure. On the third Cake answered with moments of silence thick and expectant, the question remained. Did you apologized to Marshall Lee? Something that came just as expected as Cake hanging up. It’s a grueling thought really. It was a daunting task you did not much look forward to. Dark furrowed brows, or perhaps no expression at all. A hard set of judging blood eyes, or, perhaps empty. As much as you make a point of not thinking of the Vampire your imagination has proven quite capable of formulating his image. You choose not to linger on how or why.

The task is put off.

On account of your newly freed time you give a few of your servants a break. Nothing builds character like some hard work. Well, perhaps not hard, but they deserve a break now and then. Something about the domestic tasks calm you. Laundry isn’t a complicated task. The only thing complicated about washing clothes is finding the shirt of a vampire whom you’ve recently kissed and yelled at. One you’ve managed to keep out of your thoughts with little to no effort effort at all. The material is soft between your fingers. Softer than when you first wore it. No longer smelling of punk rock and adventures in the night.

The thoughts slowly linger, creeping into your head from their repressed corners. Things you haven't bothered to consider. The corners of your lip twitch downward as you fold the T-shirt and set it aside from your own.

Cake’s words have been circling your mind as well. Maybe you were being a bit of a dick but you still don’t think you’re the one at fault here. He should most definitely apologize as well. It was just a kiss. The cruel words spit from your lips are conveniently ignored as they would ruin the narrative.

Gathering your clothing the thoughts shift to another issue. You don’t think he likes you, he’s done nothing to show he likes you. Fionna wanted you to be friends and he made an _attempt_ at it. A poor one you might add. Perhaps complimentary to your own.

Neither of you really want to be friends after all, right? An unspoken _unwanted_ attempt to please Fionna from both parties surely. You’re fine not engaging with him. Fionna however you don't intend to lose. As unfortunate as it may be, the only way to earn her back is through him. At least she only wants an apology.

Folding items to place neatly in your wardrobe you pause at the mirror. It’s been a little less than three weeks. Perhaps you need a haircut but nothing in your appearance is particularly distinguishable.

Your gaze falls from your brow, the slope of your cheek, pausing at your lips.

 

Another puzzle piece in your list of nonsensical thoughts and questions. Why is your mind contemplating the touch of his? What the heck was running through your head when you kissed him anyway? It doesn't make sense. Spending time on searching that memory you can confirm it was _you_ who initiated it. An unsavory fact you’ve come to accept. You indeed kissed him and if your memory is correct, he didn’t reciprocate the kiss. He. doesn’t. like. you.

Glob knows you don’t like him.

 

Of course, none of this explains why you kissed him. You’re not particularly lonely. Not really. He wasn’t flirting with you, least you don’t think he has. Perhaps in the past he’d taunted you but that was to get on your nerves and be a pain. Not even the alcohol can provide enough solid reasoning. You sit on your bed the black T-Shirt in hand. The only splotch of black in your thoughts and room. You could blame the alcohol. Point fingers as to the reason for all this, and as much as you want one, you’d rather it be the real one.

After three minutes of searching that thought you push it out of mind. Frustrated with a crumbled band T.

There is a rap on your door, the echo soft but audible. Unmistakably by the hand of Peppermint Maid. The girl is truly a dear, disregarding titles the candy girl is a friend and someone you can rely on as an advisor. Of which is nearly always refreshing if not on occasion a bit unsettling. “My prince,” she begins, prompting you to nod your head in acknowledgment. “I suspect we shall be receiving a visitor.” A brow raises slightly you’ve learned in the past your friend can often be correct in uncanny ways. There are times where you don’t bother to question her. The vampire floats into your mind but is dismissed. While it may be true you are not fully or even slightly acquainted with Marshall, but, you would think you know enough to dismiss the possibility of finding him at your door.

“Do tell, should this have been an announced arrival?”

She hums softly in thought, if luck favors you it might be Fionna. Something unlikely. “I think that should be something for you to decide.” There’s something in her smile that prompts your curiosity, you suspect she may know more than she’s letting on. A hardening thought. “Perhaps clean and clear a ballroom.” Is added almost playfully. When the maid turns you allow it. Trusting that she would not withhold any compromising information that would endanger you nor your kingdom.

While the wisest decision would be investigating the matter further and prepare for a guest, beiet grand or humble. The idea disinterests you. Should you be doing productive work their are higher ranking matters to attend to. Fionna is one of your best friends, the encounter admittedly did force you to admit a slight of fault is yours.

The folded shirt now sitting next to you beckons your attention. Reaching out to Marshall is not something you feel like doing. The array of possible scenarios all appear draining, but you can't stand to sit by knowing she’s disappointed in you. At the very worst your upcoming guest shall simply have to wait.

Standing you take the shirt in your hands. Mentally preparing yourself for a duty you’d rather not fulfill. Talking to Fionna was such a woven aspect in your life that it’s taken not> talking to the human to fully realize how much you’ve grown to need her. Quite literally on some occasions, er embarrassing at worst.

The longer you prolong the the issue the worse it will become. It’s decided rather begrudgingly, but determined none the less. You’ll return the shirt and glob willing hold enough control over your lips to ‘apologize’ with an acceptable amount of sincerity. As to what all you're apologizing for you haven't decided. Think of it as diplomatic practices.

**\- - -**

Remarkably you’ve been to the cave enough times to recall it’s location and how to get there. It’s kind of a dreary place, despite being cleaned up a bit. Well the cave that is. Even you can appreciate the simplicity of a small simply kept home as long as you disregard who’s living inside.

I’m sorry. That’s all you have to say, you repeat this making steps up the porch and focus on your breath. It’s not a big deal. You’re returning a shirt. It’s not a big deal and, wait, couldn’t you just leave the shirt? No that’s stupid. The shirt is the only reason you’re here. Before you can slink away with cold feat the door opens.

Dark eyes scrutinize you, looking you over up and down. Snagging on what’s in your hand. You think you see his lip twitch downward. If he’s so worried about it having your ‘germs’ he’ll be happy to know you washed it. Then there’s silence. He just, he stands there in the doorway looking as if he hasn’t changed in a few days or as if he’d just gotten out of bed. That would make more sense. Perhaps your brain is being paranoid but the air seems rather expectant. As if the vampire was far too superior to speak first.

Perhaps if you weren’t so consumed by presumptions of the negative kind you might catch the way he leans against the doorway sagging almost instead of floating a few inches above the ground. The red of his eyes inconsistent, like a cats in the night, shining at the right angle. The details are so minimal and easy to miss.

“I have your shirt.”

The inquisitive brow makes you uncomfortable shifting as he says nothing, handheld outward. A bit baffled you fumble then frown thrusting the item towards him.

He begins to shut the door. “Oh no you don’t! Wait!” your foot painfully crushed against the door as you rudely invite yourself in. He doesn’t look amused but he doesn’t stop you either and that’s what you find so infuriating. He probably doesn’t care about an apology!

“I didn’t ask for it back but that’s fine. Did you have anything else or are you hiding from your duties.” The venom in his voice is rather . . Lackluster. Something worrisome if you’d ever be worried about him. He’s angry. He has a slight reason to be but you find yours much greater.

“Says the ‘king’ without subjects.” The expression is both unattractive and . . Worrisome.

“Okay, yeah, thanks for the fucking shirt dude. Get out.”

Of course when he says the thing you want to do your mind has to find a reason to refuse. Gapeing a bit Marshall is suddenly closer. Angry. Tired and angry. “Don’t act like you want to be here.”

“I don’t, I look forward to leaving quite frankly!” You defend, he scoffs and you appreciate the reaction as much as you despise it.

“What? You gonna apologize or yell at me?” You don’t respond and in turn are gifted a portion of personal space back. He’s making your task a whole lot harder and since when were you clenching your hands? You’re being watched again and you can’t tell what Marshall Lee is looking at you, the wiser part of your brain says you don’t want to know.

“Maybe.” There’s a shift in expression, a single eyebrow raised up before turning to disbelief and him walking away. “You’d kiss me again before you apologize and mean it.” The words produce a furious burn in your ears gaping for some sort of response, following further into the kitchen. He looks annoyed that you’re still here.

“Yes okay? YES. I am sorry for that.” You’re losing your cool. Shit. He doesn’t seem all too impressed and for crying out loud why do you even care?

“Me too.” Is the short childlike response. You think you might have steam coming out your ears. He is such a brat! The words and their meaning is overlooked entirely. Lips parting prepared to make another outburst You manage to stop yourself with a sigh. Pinching at your nose. Marshall is now sitting. Staring.

“Look. We both care about Fionna and know that this,” you motion between the two of you ignoring his laugh and mixed expression. “Isn’t going to work.” He mumbles something you're just going to go ahead and ignore. “Now, since we both care about her and want to be out of the doghouse-” Laughter interrupts you. A cruel laughter that has Marshall swiping at his eyes - the eyes that kept staring at you.

Instead of questioning your furrow your brows with disapproval, tapping your finger across your bicep waiting for him to explain. Feeling a bit exacerbated. He’s still laughing. “Really? You don’t want to talk to her?” Marshall is fighting the laughter back now and it’s become less intimidating and more of a chortle. It’s probably the friendliest expression you’ve seen. “Holy fuck Gumball, you actually think she’s not talking to me? Way to be a douche.” Somehow this is also the friendliest tone he’s taken with you. As if name calling should be natural. So they’ve been talking.

How would assuming you’re receiving the same treatment make you a douche? You’re both at fault.

“Wow, big talk. Careful dude don’t want you taking credit for all that blame. Haven’t you heard it has an M carved into it?”

He doesn’t have to act like a prick, oh wait he is a prick.

“Yeah and you’re a douchebag.”

There really isn’t a need for name calling. . .

It’s oddly comfortable and you’ve moved to lean against a kitchen counter. A less suffocating silence filling the room. He isn’t staring at you.

“So fine. This is me apologizing.”

“For what?”

You parrot the words in an offended squawk. “For being a douche-bag.”

There’s silence, he stares at you, eyes less intense - less vibrant. Something is on the tip of his tongue but never spoken. The two of you wait. Three. Two.

“Okay.”

You’re prepared to defend yourself but startle with surprise eyebrows knitting together. He shouldn’t be accepting, he should be arguing with you. This shouldn’t be easy. You don’t even know if you mean it. Of course you don’t mean it . . Right?

“Okay?”

Oh, he seems annoyed that you’d suggest he doesn’t know his own thoughts. It’s mildly disconcerting. The evening has been odd to say the very least. Looking at you with some sort of awe you don’t understand Marshall groans.

“Yeah okay. Did you want me to say no?”

You shake your head slowly. Whatever neutral atmosphere is gone, hostility invading from somewhere you can’t see. It’s suffocating.

“So quest completed right? You came and apologized. Now, don’t make me repeat myself a third time. Get out.” You’d argue but he’s not staring, he’s walking away, and you’ve suddenly become quite uncomfortable. The thought alone is discomfiting. As it means you were comfortable at some point. You’re unsure as to how you should feel about that. You leave and don’t see him stare. Nor do you think about dull his eyes looked.

You were granted some peace at the palace, dismissing Peppermint Maid apologetically. You received a gushing phone call from Fionna and held some bit of chatter. She seemed happy which was good. Made the earlier events seem a bit more palatable. You can only assume she’d spoken with Marshall or perhaps he approached her. It was slightly awkward in honesty, it seemed to her as if you had done something so wonderful and genuine. It’s not in your heart or best interest to correct Fionna. If she wants to believe you have concluded the possibility of friendship with Marshall eloquently so be it. You should be concerned as to why she believes you’ve done so wonderfully but you don’t. You hang up with a small smile happy to have regained her friendship. The rest of the day is simple, you take a brief walk around the kingdom and eventually apologize to Peppermint Maid for your brash behavior. She seems to understand well enough and accepts with a small smile.

“So, you said I should expect a visitor?”

She nods without expanding which prompts a frown and more questions to which she finally obliges. “A friend, probably.”  
The puzzles and games make you groan but you don’t necessarily get mad.

“It’s just a feeling. Of course people visit the Candy Kingdom nearly every day.”

That’s a fair point but you don’t believe she would have gone out of her way with toyful words for no reason.

She responds you need to keep life exciting and the thought is so preposterous you laugh. You continue to laugh more than what is necessary. Mint doesn’t question your reaction and you don’t bother to explain.

You eventually do have a visitor, the following day precisely. Your banana guards escort a mother and child into your throne hall. The throne unoccupied, as you are not king nor wish to intimidate your citizens after all.

The conversation is friendly and you must be in a generous mood, content with the resolution of the past days. You don’t believe Marshall Lee is going to correct Fionna as she has already made plans to spend time with you, and, if she is talking to the Vampire King simultaneously he could easily destroy her enthusiastic image of you. You’re immensely grateful that has not happened. It’s cause for a good mood.

You are informed the young girl is ill. Terminally you fear with a twinge of blue to your perspective. You’re afraid this mother has come to you in search of a cure - not to say you would not try but . . Failing such a task would something weighty to bare on your heart. You are surprised when she happily claims she wants to be just like you.

The mother offers a soft tired smile.

You ask the girl what she means, ‘you’ is a very vague description and prevents you from providing any possible help.

“Oh. Right. Uh royal!” Oh, the poor dear. Your eyes soften and perhaps this is an emotion she is accustomed to because suddenly she is chattering to fill the silence.

“I wanna do royal stuff and wear pretty dresses with a crown, and have balls. Like with princes and princesses and everyone dressed like story books."

About thirty minutes later the small family leaves. It seems you will be holding a ball in honor of the Candy Kingdom's temporary ‘Princess’. It should be fun. Perhaps something Fionna and Cake will help you out on, of course, the two shall be invited.

“A ball..” You hum in thought walking back to your room. It’s been some time since you’ve held that sort of social affair. "At least I'll actually be able to attend this one." You chuckle slightly with a shake of head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this isn't too filled with mistakes, making sense would also be helpful. My eyes want sleep but I was in the carearound eight hours today and pumped out a majority of this chapter and really wanted to update because the comments I get make me so happy with just people liking my writing, and the story, the dynamic of the characters. It's really nice. vuv


	8. Some Nights I hold to Every Note I ever Wrote Some Nights I Say Fuck it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “In the same five minutes he screamed I was a bloodsucking monster and kissed me.” You’re not looking at her. Your laughter is weak. It seems Fionna does not see the comical aspect. 
> 
> You miss the first flash of emotion followed by anger. “Hey, hey Fionna it’s .. It’s whatever alright?” She’s already turned on her heel heading back inside with determined movement. You pissed her off. Gumball has indirectly pissed her off more. Agreeing to come was a mistake. Your head notes it would have come up at some point anyway. 
> 
> Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um. So. Rating change. I've been debating on making an 8track playlist for this fic.  
> Really happy with how this chapter turned out, I think my characterization of Fionna has really grown to something more realistic.
> 
> Title from Some nights (intro) By Fun

You tell Fionna what she wants to hear. It’s not quite truth, but since when have you ever had much trouble lying to people? Gumball apologized, sure. But not for the right reasons. You refuse to convince his part in the narrative by believing he’s so stupid to think an apology for that kiss is unnecessary. He can’t be that obvious can he? Or does he really believe being a ‘douche-bag’ includes kissing and name calling.  
  
So, to prevent another confrontation full of what you suspect is forced obliviousness - glob you hope it’s forced - you told Fionna what she wanted to hear. You told her that he apologized in a friendly enough matter. Fionna on the other hand you know is anything but stupid. Perhaps she puts too much faith in good nature but that’s not necessarily the same.  You told her it seemed a bit difficult for him, but after some grumbling and mumbled words he genuinely appeared to feel bad and in the end you were ‘welcome’ in the Candy Kingdom if you ever felt the need arise.  
  
In reality you suspect Gumball doesn’t even understand what he’s apologized for and after a few days and nights of small bands and mosh pits it would be in your best interest not to care or think too hard on that. You feel bruised and tired.

Does he deserve this act of kindness? Not really. It’s not exactly for him. The fact Fionna wasn’t talking to him filled you with a momentary sense of satisfaction out of spite. Course she wouldn’t be able to ignore him forever and Gumball. . You don’t really know what to do about him. The smart thing of course is to not get further involved. Accept the situation and move on.  
  
So in effort to make wise decisions, you lie. For in that brief confrontation, for a split moment, you could maybe pretend it was just bickering. That you were just frenemies calling each other names after upsetting one another. That there was more than negativity between you. You’d always thought yourself one not to play dumb and cling to the unrealistic.

. . .

  
The phone rings.  
  
Reluctantly you answer.  
  
Gumball’s celebrating. You can’t imagine why. Some new weird tradition he has to acknowledge?  
  
“Haha nah, I think he said it was like a benefit ball? I mean it’s really short notice but he was saying something about it being for a little kid.”  
  
You scoff, she chastises, you don’t really care. The ball too, you don’t care about that either.

 

Timid scheming is almost palpable in her next words.  
  
“Well, I mean since you two are on kind of okay terms I wanted you to come.” You imagine a smile. Possibly cheeky.  
  
You’re silent. Seeing him is kind of on your list of things _not_  to do. Strangely enough the words come out on their own acting as a shield. Protecting your lies. Evading your true stance with the prince.  
  
“You just want me to sweep you off your feet. Spin you around a bit. Gotta warn you Fi, I ain’t good at proper dancing.”  
  
Figures, the dude lessened the grip on your mind and has taken over your words. Protecting him is stupid. It works. Fionna makes a squawk in denial followed by laughter, you chuckle in return. Knowing that she’ll understand it as teasing verse any serious flirting. After all, you have a crush on some douchebag don’t you?    
  
“Oh yeah dude, you totally caught me! I just wanna watch you fumble and trip over your feet.”  
  
Fionna probably doesn’t know much about dancing either.  
  
“Well yeah, Gumball tried to teach me once, I think I stepped on his feet too much actually.” She giggles and in that sound it’s confirmed. she believes everything you’ve said about the situation. It produces conflicted feelings within you.  
  
“Marshall? Are you still there?”  
  
Oh, you got distracted.  
  
“Yeah, sorry. Was just trying to imagine you dancing.”  
  
You can almost hear an eye roll on the other side of the line. You don’t think it’s the greatest idea in the world. Not to mention, balls aren’t your sort of party.  
  
“Pft, aren’t you supposed to be some sort of king?” It’s a friendly enough jest.  
  
Yep, Marshall Lee the one and only Vampire King. Course the nightosphere didn’t exactly host balls. Balls don’t seem like the place you’d find an adventurer. They don’t sound much like Fionna’s thing.  
  
“Oh, well, yeah. I mean they’re not my favorite but they can be fun! I dunno he asked me to help him set the thing up. Plus I think Cake wants to go. You know, since Monochromicorn will be there.” There’s a sound of protest that sounds muffled accompanied by laughter on Fionna’s end.  
  
You smile a little.  
  
“Like I was saying before I got interrupted. He wanted help and I want a ‘date’ who will keep things fun.”  
  
Date? Fun? She corrects the description to interesting. Which probably translates to trouble of some sort. You don’t know.  
  
“Aww c’mon Marshall! I’m not asking you two to hang out. I get it, um at least I think so.” And Gumball can’t keep things fun? “Um, okay so the last time I went to a dance with him as my date things got kind of weird. .” When you push on the subject you get a clipped explanation involving the Ice Queen and clones. Along with the argument that he’ll probably be too busy anyway.

  
You let out a sigh retreating into your thoughts. It’s too perfect a place for confrontation. Can’t imagine he’d be happy seeing you any time soon. If this had been the case a few weeks earlier you would have loved to shown up with your bass, clothed in torn jeans and a flannel. Now the idea only sounds like trouble.  
  
“I have nothing to wear.”  
  
Apparently Fionna says Cake can help with that.  
  
Finally after a longer conversation you yield in your efforts to convince her it’s not your thing.

“Hey cheer up! I promise we can find a way to make things fun and if not we can leave.”  
  
You agree and hang up. There’s a strong possibility you’ll just leave.  
  
Once upon a time you would have loved to prepare a way to mess with the gumwad but for Fionna’s sake - the back of your head suggests a more interesting reason and is ignored. For Fionna’s sake you’ll suffer through the affair and cling to the shadows. Something you’re good at. It should only last a few hours, you decide that you only need to stay one or two.  
  
 

\- - -

 

 

Things settle back to normal, well, normal-ish. You’ve managed to block Gumball from your head for the most part. Hanging out with Fionna probably helps with that, more effective than endless moshpits and deathwalls. Thank Glob she doesn’t try and bring Gums into the mix of things.  
  
On your first face-to-face encounter you get a hard punch to the arm. Guess the human didn’t appreciate you screening her calls. After your punishment you receive a warm hug. Cake seems a bit reluctant when it comes to conversations about a certain prince. You make sure to keep them short.  
  
Apparently there’s some sick candy kid who wants to dress up like a princess and royalty and all that junk. So Gumball is throwing some ball to celebrate the Candy Kingdom’s honorary temporary princess. It’s nice, a nice thing to do. You question the temp princess logic and Fionna sort of shrugs at you. Fair answer.  
  
Fionna was right, Cake is sort of ecstatic about playing dress up with you too. More so when told that she gets to dress you up. I mean, of course she gives you a suspicious look first but after that the cat appears to be in heaven. You’re not quite sure how a cat, magic or not, is as good at sewing as she is.

 

You spend the next day with Fionna as well, once she’s finished helping Gumball that is. You guess it’s going to be pretty happening. You convince Fionna to show you her dance skills and surprisingly you’re better. Except not really. Cake points out you’ve been alive much longer. This leads to an awkward conversation where Cake corners you on how you learned and who you’ve dance with. The way she wiggles her brows makes you frown a bit.  
  
Eventually the two stop trying to piece together your love life. It’s not a lie when you say it’s kind of boring.

 

You’re not sure how they manage to organize a ball in a week but apparently Fionna and Gumball pull it off. You tug at the knot of your tie in a show of discomfort. The whole attire is a bit much. The girls argue at least it’s black! They have a point however small it might be. Cake says you look hot in the suit she half picked out half tailored. You roll your eyes. Fionna looks nice though. Apparently she wore a similar dress to the last occasion. The biggest difference is the introduction of blue. Not quite sure what that means but alright.  
  
Instead of bat transportation Cake enlarges herself. Guess you might muse up your outfit other wise. The sun has gone down enough to make the light only mildly uncomfortable. It will be night soon enough. You’ll give credit when credit is due. The kingdom looks nice.  
  
Lit up more than usual, the number of lanterns increasing the closer you get to the palace which is also lit in an elegant fashion. Citizens are gathered and dressed up. You think you might spot a few other princes and princesses within the crowd. Cake excused herself without much hesitance and you feel a surge of envy. Already you see Gumball at the front Doors. A small girl opposite him greeting their guests. He’s not wearing his usual poofy sleeved tunic. It’s not quite as simple as the suit Cake placed you in but it’s certainly less flashy. You curse yourself for thinking he looks good in it.

 

“Fionna, I was wondering when you’d get here!” He smiles warmly before noticing you. It’s subtle but there’s a shift in posture. Eyebrows forming a tight line while his lips straighten. His eyes scan you over. Something condescending on the tip of his tongue, Gumball’s mouth does not open but you hear it anyway. The lingering silence is awkward. Enough to catch Fionna's attention who’s looking between the two of you with an unreadable expression and tilted lip. “Marshall Lee.” He adds finally through a tight smile. “Well, go inside. There’s food and music.”  
  
So much for lingering in the shadows.  
  
Luckily Fionna doesn’t protest when you pull her inside. It.. Looks like a ball. Couples and friends dancing to music you don’t listen to. Even Fionna seems to appear a bit out of it atmosphere wise.  
  
She does not comment on the interaction and you feel grateful albeit concerned that her eyebrow has yet to smooth out. Her eyes are searching and mildly suspicious.  
  
The ballroom fills with men and women in dresses and suits. It’s impressive. You excused yourself from Fionna when someone asked her to dance. Standing in the corner you observe. The floor never clears from dancing however there are circles of people socializing. Socializing without you thankfully. Not that you wear the most inviting appearance. Technically if you listened to your head you’d have left by now. Gumball makes this big introduction for a girl named Cindy dressed in bright orange. It’s sweet, no pun intended. What with the kid wearing a smile that threatens to split her face in half.  
  
Fionna finds you just as another dance begins. Gumball lifting the girl to dance with to make up for extreme height difference. From your view he doesn’t look like the confused-about-what-he-wants asshole he’s shown to you. Instead he looks kind. You watch his head tilt back with laughter. He looks like the image of a kind and gentle prince. Eventually you remember Fionna who appears to be studying you her lips in a thin line. You don’t know exactly what the expression means or what she’s looking for but you don’t plan on having any serious conversations. She surprises you by asking to dance.  
  
“I thought we both agreed on sucking.” She shrugs. “Well yeah but I doubt anyone else is gonna ask you. Plus you’re pretty decent.”  
  
You don’t exactly feel like dancing when you could watch Gumball instead. Your head seems to recognize that as a dangerous course of action and you eventually agree. Maybe it’s the out of place atmosphere or your reluctance to rebel and create drama that stops you from making a joke of it. Fionna doesn’t seem to complain aside from a light tint in her cheeks when you direct one of her hands to your shoulder, your own resting at the small of her back as you take her free hand in your own. It’s not waltzing or whatever, but maybe you do know a little bit of dancing.  
  
Fionna laughs nervously when you begin to move your feet and you give her small instructions what to do with her feet.  
__  
Back step, triple-step, triple-step.  
  
_Back step, triple-step, triple-step._  
  
“Hey, don’t watch your feet you’ll screw up like that.”  
  
She laughs an apology. She manages to get the steps right and honestly you do the rest. Following isn’t very difficult as long as you have a lead who know’s what they’re doing. Not to say it’s a scene out of a fairy tale but the grin from Fionna shows she must be having some amount of fun. While dancing you miss the glances from Gumball. You don’t, however miss the way Peppermint Maid is watching you two. Pft, you mistake it as her speculating you and Fionna’s relationship. When she’s still staring after a second turn you begin to doubt that idea. On the third she’s gone. The song ends. Gumball interrupts making a note to ignore your presence. She’s being pulled off for another dance with stumbling protests. You’re given a small glare. That little performance must’ve given the impression she knows how to dance.  
  
Most of the candy citizens seem a bit intimidated by you, you notice a small group of girls now watching you most likely noting the way you spun Fionna across the floor. You groan. And find an open balcony where you can retreat curious eyes. On the way Peppermint Maid flashes a smile at you prompting a spike of irritation. Whatever.

 

  
\- - -

 

The night has gone smoothly, Cindy seems to be enjoying herself immensely and her mother seems just as happy. Which is a near blessing considering your unexpected guest. There was some anxiety he'd cause trouble but so far Marshall Lee hadn't done much of anything whenever you bothered looking. Fionna looked like she had an easier time dancing with him, to be fair you aren’t incredibly interested in dancing.  
  
“Shit I guess he made me look good at this huh?” She laughs as if his presence doesn’t bother her.  
  
“So.. Marshall Lee your date?” You raise an eyebrow voice casual. Calm.  
  
She gives you an odd look with a softer laugh. “I mean, I wouldn’t really call him my date, but yeah. He’s pretty good at dancing huh?” She’s oblivious.  
  
You nod “It would appear so.” Voice coming out more wry than you’d meant. There’s a beat in your steps before falling back into correct tempo.    
  
“I mean okay, I know you didn’t invit--” “It would have been nice to have a warning.” She huffs at your interruption and you frown apologetically. “Okay fine but so what? He’s not causing any trouble. Heck he didn’t even complain when Cake said he had to wear a suit.” The other couples around you are moving faster as you’ve slowed in favor of talking.  
  
“He should dress that way more often.” Maybe he’d learn some manners. Fionna seems unimpressed and eventually pulls you from the edge of dancers to have an actual conversation. Arms crossed over her chest. You sense a storm cloud forming in the distance of blues eyes. You don’t feel like hitting another confrontation, especially with Fionna. While you haven’t seen it often you’ve heard the girl has a ‘righteous temper’. “And you invited him?” “Yes.” Her voice is testing. “I’m just surprised he agreed to come.” It’s not an entirely hostile statement.  
  
When you look back at Fionna something’s changed. A spark of lightning escapes the storm clouds in her eyes. Shooting to her brain and connecting the synapses’ with a certain sort of half-realization. Your stomach turns. You’re not entirely sure what information has been brought to light but any winds of anger are soothed and collected. She politely excuses herself. You think you see her disappear out a balcony.  
  
Scanning the ballroom Marshall Lee is absent as well. This should relieve you, yet it does not. A thought occurs and you recall the first conversation you had after your visit with Marshall Lee.

 

  
\- - -

 

  
The night is refreshing, perhaps smells a bit too sweet but the skies are inviting and you decide you’ve fulfilled your obligation of staying. Hell for more than an hour too. Infact you wouldn’t even be the first to leave.  
  
Fionna finds you first, beating your departure in favor of conversation.  
  
“What did Gumball do?”  
  
Your eyebrows raise in confusion and she repeats the questions with a frown. You slouch in confusion. Where did this even come from? A pretty vague question too. Glancing to the lights of the ballroom you can only imagine what Gumball did to fuckup in such a short amount of time. You feel a little bad. She says your name and takes a step forward invading your space. Perhaps if you were of equal height it would be more intimidating.

You’re tell her you’re not entirely sure what she means.  
  
“Did he say any of that junk you told me?”  
  
Swallowing your glance away, answering her with silence.

For a moment Fionna deflates the anger melting into .. Pity? Sympathy? You’re not quite sure. A hand in yours turns your head. You don’t like the way she’s looking at you. “Why did you lie?” Voice conflicted. Holding back annoyance.  
  
You shrug, lying is easier. You don’t want him to give you another meaningless apology if you can call it that.  
  
She doesn’t seem to hold back that annoyance for very long though you might appreciate the sprinkled amounts of concern within her expression. “Alright, fine but now you dragged me into your drama.” She must see the way your eyes widen or hear the protest on your lips because a hand is being held up. “No, listen to me. You lied and I treated Gumball like he’d done something great while you make it sound like he’s been a jerk and now I’m not sure which side to listen to.”  
  
Distressed static replaces the air as guilt sinks into your stomach, of course you didn’t want to drag her into any of this crap.

“Sorry, I didn’t want make this a bigger deal than it already was for you.” Voice defeated mumbles. It’s not what she wants to hear and you’re growing so tired of the drama. Sighing you pinch the bridge of your nose. “Look, Fionna he’s not going to apologize the way you want him to. The only reason he even did was because of you threatening a silent treatment.” She never told you it _was_ a silent treatment. “You should be happy and congratulate yourself.” You gest towards inside, a bitter feeling forming in your chest. “It appears we can co-exist in the same room without someone yelling at each other. Happy happy!” 

She’s backed off enough to give you personal space again, frown straightening out into a thin line. The expression is becoming common.   
  
You’ll regret being mean later but right now you just don’t seem to care, feeling crappier by the second. “You know how to contact me.”  
  
“Wait! Marshall.. What did Gumball do?”  
  
You glare, a sneer forming at the repeated questions.  
  
“That’s a really vague fucking question ya know?”

She’s better at holding her cool and only exposes clenched fists. “You mentioned yelling match, what did he do that he was supposed to apologize for?”  
  
“Blaming me when he’s being the dumbass and kissing me.”  
  
She tells you neither of those things involve yelling matches, suspicion that you’re not giving her the full details.  
  
You don’t feel like being caught in her thunder and sigh softly. Looking up into the sky, the one place where you can pretend nothing matters. It takes a minute to gather the words scattered along your brain. Things thrown away to forget. You didn’t expect any future need to repeat them. There’s no escape for you is there?  
  
“In the same five minutes he screamed I was a bloodsucking monster and kissed me.” You’re not looking at her. Your laughter is weak. It seems Fionna does not see the comical aspect.   
  
You miss the first flash of emotion followed by anger. “Hey, hey Fionna it’s .. It’s whatever alright?” She’s already turned on her heel heading back inside with determined movement. You pissed her off. Gumball has indirectly pissed her off more. Agreeing to come was a mistake. Your head notes it would have come up at some point anyway.  
  
Shit.  
  
Heading inside you tune in on the sound of hushed angry whispers. Fionna has crowded Gumball into a corner. Guy's lucky, you suspect she wouldn’t have been kind enough to drag him off the dance floor.  
  
Cautiously you weave in between guests on a path towards them. Some things louder than others.

You want to take satisfaction in the expression on Gumball’s face but you don’t. 

You see Fionna give his chest a weak but notable shove and raise an eyebrow. Glancing around you note only a portion of his guests witness and those that do, don’t intervene.  
  
After getting closer the conversation becomes easier to make out.

 

“You still lied to me!--” You’re probably going to get a similar treatment on another date. “--No! Gumball it’s worse. You went along with everything and continued to lie instead of just telling me you apologized and still don’t like each other.” Wicked storm he’s got on his hands. Where Fionna’s voice is raised it seems he’s attempting to remain rational, voice hushed whispers in defense that you can’t quite make out. Guess he doesn’t know how to yield judging by her continued responses. 

  
Sure he fucked up, he’s kind of an insensitive ass but it seemed a bit much. Maybe it’s just weird seeing someone react the way you’re expected to. Not to say you didn’t go off on Gumball when everything happened but isn’t this a bit much for someone who wasn’t  the one who'd been yelled at?

“You couldn’t even apologize? You called him a monster and when I come all dumb thinking you did something so nice you let me believe it!” 

  
Fionna lowers her voice as a few more eyes turn and you spot Cake glancing at you in confusion.  
  
Judging by lips Gumball doesn’t get much time in offence. He says something and there’s a hard smack covered only by the music. Eyes widening in shock your legs bolt forward. Fionna has stalked off leaving a dumbfounded look on the prince’s face. Probably mirroring your own. He doesn’t sneer or cower away from you like you expected. In fact he looks a bit dead in the eyes. There’s a twinge of guilt.  
  
“Shit.. “ Well, guess you know who slaps harder.  
  
There’s a flicker of recognition in his eyes and before he can fucking go off on you or flip two shits you take hold his arm and make a point of dragging his ass up the closest flight of stairs. He hasn’t complained yet and shit this place is huge. Why the heck does he have to have so many rooms and shit? Rather not have him snap aware in the hallway and have you thrown out by a pair of guards.

He’s saying something but it doesn’t really register. You bump into someone much shorter than you and curse an apology. The maid wears a wry smile that’s only a hint unnerving. “Third right, straight down. First door.”

 

By the time you get him to his room Gumballs pulled away face-flush red. One side more so than the other. Eyebrows bent in a mixture of anger and confusion. “Wh-What are you doing!?” Words spat weakly in your direction.  
  
“Your nose is bleeding.” Comes out instead of ‘Were you really going to stay?    
  
Your chest twists the same way as his face. The prince takes a step back and hell if you don’t feel something inside you chip a little. It must have shown by the guilt that replaces it. A standstill. The room is dark, you fear if it weren’t he might be able to see how much you really care. Unfortunately glowing eyes don’t do hiding well.  
  
He follows silently into the bathroom and sits. Skin warm when you gently tilt his chin upward. You find a washcloth easily, wetting it before gently dabbing at his nose. “Honestly don’t know how she managed a hit hard enough to send you bleeding.” Is muttered under your breath. It doesn’t look too bad. Although his cheek is pretty red. “Hell I didn’t even slap you that hard.”

And you were the one he yelled at. You think you hear him mumble something with the words sorry in it. A small genuine sound that pierces your chest. Guess your defenses are wearing thin. Actually no, it’s just him isn’t it? You dismiss the sound. Dismiss your heightened sense of hearing, dismiss the possibility he’d ever look at you like you’re more than an annoyance.

He repeats the words again as if you maybe didn’t hear them. Eyes scrunching you turn and walk away. He doesn’t understand what words like that mean or do to you.  Absently you think you left your suit jacket on the balcony. Cake will fuss. There are footsteps behind you. 

 

  
“Did I.. Actually call you that?”  
  
You don’t turn to face him, fingers flexing in anxiety. You tell him the truth. Yeah, you did, but it’s whatever, you were drunk.  
  
He doesn’t reply, a hand lands on your shoulder prying your body to face his. You stand a few inches taller but it’s nothing significant. Even in the grey light you can recognize the beauty of his eyes. The soft mixture of colors. The fact they aren’t narrowed is an issue.  
  
Fionna’s wrong. It was never just about being different breeds of asshole that kept you from becoming friends. You’d never be comfortable with just friends. You’d want more. That is something you cannot, and probably should not have, let alone want.  
  
“..I’m sorry. It was wrong.” He has to manually turn your cheek to look at him and the contact burns. You flinch.  
  
It’s not sustainable, wanting him is unsustainable. He would never like you the same way. Or, maybe he would for a short period time. He would get bored afterall. He’d remember you’re a ‘monster’. Monsters don’t mix with Princes. Princes search for princesses and heros. There is relief when he moves his hand.  
  
You’re not sure when the back of your thighs hit the edge of his bed. Leaving would be wise, alone in a dark bedroom with a Gumball who is genuine and apologetic. The next time pink lips part he makes things immensely worse.  
  
“Cake said you liked me.” Past tense, voice unsure.  
  
Swallowing you force a laugh because that is the dumbest idea that cat has ever come up with.  
  
Gumball moves closer. Stealing the distance you gained. You falter. “Yet you’re here. . Helping me after my words finally came back to hurt me.” You might better deflect the conversation if he sounded more assured. “Why?”  
  
You ask why he kissed you.  
  
His eyes flicker away. “I.. Don’t know. I was pretty drunk. .”  
  
Well there’s your answer.  
  
“I don’t think you’re drunk Marshall.” Voice softer than before, scolding almost.  
  
He’s moved closer now, about a foot apart. Scanning your face--eyes for an answer to a question you once knew but can’t recall.

 

The silence is heavy, stretched between you, blocking out thought.  
  
Gumball’s eyes brighten for just a moment, not in a good way. They don’t soften with understanding and acceptance. There's realization and disbelief. Panic and maybe fear. Your stomach curls and your chest sinks. Red glow fading as you share in a realization, he’s horrified. Words are fumbling trying but unable to escape pink lips.  
  
It was just a kiss. Painful as any other words he’s thrown at you before if not more.  
  
Muscles stiffening you look down, cheeks burning in shame as you turn to escape his presence and his eyes. Before he can peel away your feelings and dissect your thoughts.  
  
A hand connects to your wrist and you’re turned around. For the second time in the last month, Prince Gumball has kissed you.  
  
Weakly you tug your wrist, he traps the other. Lip sliding against yours in a familiar desperation. The taste is different, bittersweetness and alcohol missing.  
  
It’s precise, controlled by panic slightly unsure. You don’t remember closing your eyes.  
  
Pink lips close enough to brush against yours with his words; you like me.  
  
The voice is small but not a question, you nod your head wrists burning. For some reason you’re shaking. You don’t remember shaking. Numbly you allow him to guide you to the bed. You sit on the edge. He sits next to you.

You wish your actual thighs were touching, bare and void of obstructing fabric. Your legs bounce.  
  
A grip on your chin allows Gumball to turn your face. You can only imagine you look terrified. He doesn’t know how bad you’ve got it. The bright lights of his eyes have been snuffed out left dark as he asks if he can kiss you. Voice low and soft.  
  
You don’t recognize those dark eyes. You tell him yes. He’s coaxed you upward on the mattress and is leaning over you.  
  
The third time you taste his lips is while on your back. They’re soft against yours. Gentle yet firm. A weak sound of surprise escapes when a foreign tongue awakens the nerves across your lower lip. The muscle meets no resistance in parting them. It deepens. You fight him, contrast his gentle movement with heat and lust but a squeeze to your wrists conjures a white flag in defeat. Gums conquers your mouth slow and teasing, tracing your teeth and tongue _and fuck_ that’s hot.  
  
A huff escapes your nose, hips roll upward against Gums weight on your body.  
  
It hurts, it’s painful, you haven’t stopped shaking.

 

He’s painfully gentle and it may kill you.  
  
At the freedom of your wrists you take his hips prisoner. Rolling your own upwards positioned against a soft backside. You swallow a groan. The movement was either unexpected or the dudes sensitive.  
  
You didn’t feel the burn in your lungs until he allows you to breath. Pushing your chin upward to lay kisses down your neck. Each soft and delicate leaving burns. By the time your tie disappears and your shirt’s unbuttoned you can’t take it. Switching places isn’t difficult, turning him on his back to lay beneath you. He doesn’t resist, molding to your requests. You pull him upward into a kiss that’s tongue and teeth. Heat. You think you hear him murmur complaint. You gently kiss away your transgression. Desire. Sitting up it’s easier to claw away at his clothing unbuttoning and pulling away fabric to reveal a solid chest void of imperfection. He doesn’t know the ways he’s ripping you apart. A trail of kisses across his jaw, down his neck. Pain. Teeth sink into the meat connecting neck and shoulder. He yelps in protest, the sound transforming into a moan. You don’t allow yourself the pleasure of breaking the skin. No puncture wounds will be found. Just a purple bruise. A reminder you exist.

“C-Can’t you be a bit more patient?” Gumball's panting, voice out of breath. You want to hear more of it. 

“No.”  
  
Apparently that was the wrong answer.  
  
You never imagined yourself in the prince’s bed with any belief it might happen but here he has you naked and raw. The only color in your skin patches of pink and red from your shoulders to your ears.  
  
He takes control of your wrists once again, forcing them above your head. It’s a surprise he can manage with one hand. You give up. How could you think of fighting such soft touches, gentle caresses, and ghosted kisses. The carefully positioned kisses down your throat and collar whisper soft nothings while Gumball is silent. Pain shoots through your nerves. When he pulls you to sit up you’re the one soft and out of breath. Red eyes lidded, lips flush a distant color from his own. You’re not even sure what he wants you to do anymore. You stare while an arm hooks around you neck. You shudder when a soft hand wraps around both lengths. There's a groan in pleasure, you don't know who it belongs too.  
  
A whimper escapes and you can’t will yourself to care. You need him closer. A hands fists into pink hair. Forehead pressed against his shoulder, hiding furrowed brows and parted lips as Gums moving his hand, stroking slowly. Breath uneven. You don’t prevent a groan from passing your lips, you cant help it. Not when his thumb swipes along the head, not when a stroke or flick of wrist catches a certain ridge pulling it this or that way. Not when the hand is his.  
  
You’re shaking, again, from the shoulders down. Gumball seems relatively exposed if not slightly unraveled. At some point you crack. He’s observant after all, you’re not patient. Placing a hand over his to guide and further the current speed. Hips rocking forward pulling a gasp from Gums. He starts mumbling at a furious speed to wait, but you can’t. It’s too painful. So you squeeze and pump faster. The coils in your stomach don’t take long to burst and you manage to make a mess of yourselves. Stomachs covered in body fluid. When your vision returns the solid weight is gone. Returning with a washcloth and cleaning your stomach. You don’t know what to do. The shaking has been reduced to your fingers. The lights are slowly returning to his eyes and he soon crawls in bed under the covers. For a moment there's what you think is hesitation before he's turning to you with an inquisitive stare.  
  
You can’t suppress bafflement when finally concluding it’s an invitation.  
  
You’re tired and a little dazed. You accept.  
  
Gumball doesn’t hesitate in pulling you close, tangling your legs together under the sheets. You suppose it makes sense, you don’t give off body heat to make things uncomfortable. You lay there while he soon submits to sleep.  
  
You’re still shaking, thoughts chaotic even as your mind begins to drift.

Eyes closing you can’t help think that you’ll always like him far more than he likes you.

For that matter, he may not even like you.

Exhaustion pulls on your body, while warmth anchors you.

That night your dreams are strange and unwelcome.  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut is a thing now. Not without plot of course. What will hapoen next I wonder?? ;)


	9. Because It's Not Love But It's Still A Feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You're not a very good person."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Like a bat out of Hell  
> I'll be gone when the morning comes  
> Oh, when the night is over  
> Like a bat out of Hell  
> I'll be gone, gone, gone"  
> Meat Loaf - Bat Out of Hell
> 
> Hello, I'm back sort of, I'm about to start my first semester of college *anxious breathing* So, yeah, kind of nervous. I suspect I will have less free time than I already do and thus I ask for patience when it comes to updates on any of my fics.  
> Hopefully this chapter isn't a disappointment.  
> Chapter titles taken from "Because It's Not Love" by The Pipettes.

The sun has yet to rise when your eyes open. The world is painted in cool blues and grays shadowing the hours before dawn. You’re not hovering precariously. There’s a pair of arms anchoring you down into a bed too soft. There was a ball. Fionna and Gumball were at said ball. Gumball didn’t stop you from dragging him up the stairs.  
  
Gumball. Prince Gumball has an arm around your bare waist. Eyes closed, mouth parted slightly in sleep. The soft breath tickles your neck ever so slightly.  
  
If you had a pulse it would jump, instead you force the willpower to slip from his grasp. Watch in silent horror as he grumbles and turns over. Sigh in relief when he does not open his eyes.  
  
It’s still dark out.  
  
You find your clothes with a bit more panic, jump into your pants and give up on your shirts buttons. Who needs shirts anyway if shaky fingers are going to get in the way? It takes a total of five minutes, five horrible minutes of holding your breath in paranoia that the slightest sound will ring throughout the room like an alarm. You sneak glances over your shoulder at the half-full bed hoping he stays asleep long enough for you to escape. You can’t imagine he’d wake this early but the adrenaline over rules logic.  
  
Window open you stare at the sleeping prince for a moment longer eyes tracing a purple bruise blooming at the crossroad of his shoulder.

The image forming in your mind is quite vivid. The taste of his skin near palatable. _You don’t allow yourself the pleasure of breaking the skin. No puncture wounds will be found. Just a purple bruise. A reminder you exist._

Not the time.  
  
He’d want you gone anyway and it’s not like getting stuck in the palace with the sun out is much of an option. Or, well, it _is_ an option but why the fuck would you allow something so dreadful to happen? Short answer, you won’t.

You weren’t even drunk. You weren’t even drunk and you let something so undeniably stupid happen. You can’t remember why you let it happen.

 Who would have thought he’d be the person to bring up your fruitles- your unsustainable attraction. Seems like the sort of topic you’d avoid really. _Pink lips brush against yours with his words; you like me._  
  
Wings fighting the slowly fading sky you try with more effort than you’re freely admit not to fall from it in panic and confusion.  
  
You can feel him. The heat of his touch across your skin. You can’t imagine he left any bruises with the gentle press of his mouth. _Sososo gentle_. You wish he had. You wish you had visible proof like the reminder you’d left him.  
  
The clearest imagine in your mind is that of his eyes darkened with something you don’t recognize. Could be a cheap hatefuck. Gross thought, no fuck that. Fuck that idea. He was too gentle. Too soft. There’s of course the disqualification in which he does not hate you. Probably.  
  
As nice as the sight of your cave is the thoughts in your head that made your arrival seem so sudden would preferably fuck off.  
  
It’s an awkward landing and you stumble a bit returning to your more human form.  
  
A distraction would be nice. Maybe sleep. He’d probably just show up to torment your dreams. You know what he looks like now. What he feels like under the touch of your skin. Bare and painted with the shadows of night. Perhaps at one point that would be pretty ideal for the imagination but him kissing you changed things. Him touching you changed things. These are scenarios better left to the more perverted parts of your mind.  
  
You don’t know why he did it. Still don’t know why he first kissed you aside from alcohol. Hell he probably doesn’t know either. Probably forgot what was happening for a second and only registered your pretty face. Using you seems like it would be more trouble than it’s worth. At least, you hope it would be more trouble than it’s worth.

The door unlocks with a soft click.

Maybe Fionna could help?  
  
Well, actually Fionna would probably just come down and ball you out like she had Gumball. Maybe with less slapping. You’ll thank her for defending your honor some other time. When you’re not freaking out.  
  
Should earn an achievement for not falling out of the sky and combusting like a commit. Who would be able to tell the difference? Pft. Some poor shmucks would probably wish upon your flaming body as you hurled from the sky. Wait. Dumb thoughts.  
  
The phone rings.  
  
You stare. Someone might have thought that phone murdered your entire family and was now standing on your doorstep holding cupcakes in the attempts of an extended apology.  
  
The list narrows quickly Fionna or Cake. Why they’d call in the ass crack of morning who knows. Second thought probably Cake. Fionna wouldn’t settle with talking on the phone, blond would insist on marching all the way down to your little home if she were up to confronting you.  
  
You pick up reluctantly and freeze at the voice on the other line of the phone. Hissing softly in response as the thing near drops from your hands.  
  
Why is _he_ calling you?

 He _shouldn’t_ be calling you.

“Hello? Marshall?” He sounds so calm, well mostly. Kind of confused, timid perhaps. Pft, was he afraid he had the wrong number? - might have something to do with you not responding but regardless.

 “Yeah?” Your voice comes out short and clipped, betraying the tightly wound nerves in your stomach.     
  
“Oh, yes! well I - uh. You left your shoes.”  
  
“What?”

 “You left your shoes here.” He’s calling because.. Because of shoes?  
  
“Sorry?” Peaks of panic transform into agitation at him. At how casual he sounds. At the fact he’s calling you about clothing articles after the two of you, oh, I dunno, pressed flush against one another.  
  
“No, no! It’s fine. I could have them, um, sent to you.” You vaguely wonder if he has one night stands often. If this is how he deals with these things. Polite and accommodating. He continues when you remain silent.  
  
“I wouldn’t have run you out.”  
  
Bullshit. And take a day off to talk about their ~feelings~, or more likely lack of?

“Yet you’re glad that I left when I did.”

Gumball’s confirmation lay with silence. It’s not surprising but the flare in your chest is more irksome than you’d have liked.  
  
“I get. You have a job.” Aaand you told yourself you weren’t going to lose it. “What I _don’t_ get why you’re playing niceties and offering to send me a fucking pair of shoes. Hell you didn’t even need to call for that. Have your already forgotten where I live?” Going on the aggressive wasn’t a part of your plan but it just kind of happens.  
  
He can’t sleep with you then turn around and try to be your friend. Hell maybe he shouldn’t even try being your friend. Maybe less for his sake and more for yours. Thoughts from last night return slowly and are squashed just as quickly.  
  
“You have an actual reason for calling me?”  
  
“No - wait, I mean yes.” You feel no sympathy for his stumblings and clutch the phone tighter lips pulling downward.  
  
“I, um, wanted to thank you for escorting me from the ballroom at the time you had.” The words are unconvincing and thank glob you can’t see his face as he spins you his bullshit.

“Oh. Right. Of course.” You should be civil, why aren’t you being civil? Last night you and Gumball may have even passed as friends and your first instinct is to run and hiss?  
  
It’s a good instinct to have isn’t it? Self-preservation? Caution towards those who might do harm? Even you must admit you’ve left too much of your feelings in the Prince’s possession. Dusty and rotting with neglect - you can’t imagine he’s aware of how deep your feelings run. You’re not sure you have that knowledge yourself.  
  
Cake told him though. It’s not a secret anymore. Maybe it never was one.  
  
The line is silent aside from the broken beginnings of sentences. All on his end and failing.  
  
“I wanted to talk about last night.”  
  
Wow, how forthcoming, how surprising of the prince after his past actions. For someone who would fail so miserably to see how the where in the wrong to suddenly have a sense of obligation.

“Over the phone?”

“Well, yes! You left so quickly…” He trails off and your stomach lurches.  
  
You know where this is going, this is where he tells you it wasn’t special. He tells you what you already know. Confirms the dimly painted situation the two of you have been painted in. There’s no happy ending in this.  
  
He’ll apologize, because that is his way. That is polite. That is the formal way to cut and tie loose ends. He’ll ask that you keep this private of course, that you don’t tell Fionna. That it not happen again. Perhaps he’ll be merciful and tell you to stay away from him as well. Perhaps he may not need to.  
  
You don’t like what happens next. You’re not proud of it. The sound of laughter uncomfortable and smooth like oil dripping from your lips as if this is a joke. As if you understand and agree with the silent terms that he is bound to ask. You’ll save him the trouble. “Gums, don’t worry about it. Can’t think I’m that dumb can you? Ll’hurt my feelings that way. It’s whatever, never happened. You wear a high collar, won’t be hard to hide that bruise. I’ll keep my mouth shut or whatever and you can continue with.. Whatever it is you do.”  
  
The words are charming and flow together, demanding all attention and prevent speculation. You think perhaps it is similar to tasting poison those words.  
  
“Marshall I-”  
  
“Don’t worry about it.” The line goes quiet and to your surprise does not protest.

It hurts more than you’d have like or anticipated. Sinking down against the wall your mind slows. Recalls slowly the natural heat of his skin, prior conversations where you thoughtlessly teased him. Points in time when your emotions deepened. Be better off preparing a believable tale for Fionna that keeps the two of you apart.

 

  
\- - -

 

He.. He hung up on you.  
  
Disgruntled and unnerved, scratch that- all together unwell Gumball sat, phone still pressed against his ear. Lips parted with the ghost of protest clinging to his lips.  
  
Last night had been. . Well. It was fast, moved much too fast. From the well deserved stinging slap across your cheek to Marshall’s bone-like wrists held in your hand.  
  
The world has not quite woken yet, for that you are thankful. The silence is less imposing than your usual mornings.  
  
Calling was a bad idea, you knew that. Anyone would know that, he left no indication he wished to speak. The laughter echos on your walls. Never happened? You seldom steal people off into your bedroom. While your mind may not be able to pinpoint the exact purpose in calling him you know that it was not to tell him ‘forget this happened.’ Forgetting something like this would be quite dangerous afterall.  
  
You should be grateful, humbled by such a generous offer.  
  
It could have never happened.  
  
Feet trudging across carpet the first thing noted staring in the mirror is a growing patch of purple across your neck and shoulder. Pink skin tender and bruised. Distastefully you can only imagine how his cold hands might feel against it.

You can’t blame him for this.  
  
He didn’t kiss you, he didn’t advance upon you.  
  
He looked terrified. Maybe as terrified as you. It’s true afterall. He likes you. The dark inkling of a thought questions just how far those feelings go. The answers send a shiver of self-disgust down your spine.  
  
“Dammit..”  
  
Kissing him was a mistake, touching him. . Touching him was a glorious mistake that you shall spend too much thought on much later. No. You would not have run him from your bed, but you agree, it is best that he’s gone.

Gaze unfocused you concentrate long enough to trace the skin.  
  
It’s clear in your mind, the hesitation and fear swept across raised brows and wide eyes red and pulsing. Freshly exposed emotions you cast aside with disregard to respond with only need. Need for him and the vulnerability found in the clash of teeth and press of lips. He was right.  
  
He was right about you, not being a good person.  
  
Dug too deep the idea of feigning oblivion to his feelings is unthought of.

Marshall Lee likes you. Perhaps more than likes you.

Desire thick and uncomfortable drips from your lungs black and heavy to swirl in your stomach. Dread paints your emotions and you go to sit on the edge of your bed.  
You’re not a very good person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "And all I can do is keep on telling you  
> I want you  
> I need you  
> But there ain't no way  
> I'm ever gonna love you"  
> Meat Loaf - Two Out of Three Ain't Bad
> 
> Uh, sooo, now that I'm done sounding sternly and whatnot I hope everyone going back to school doesn't face too much stress!  
> :')  
> Until next time! <3  
> Honestly not too certain whether there will be a happy or sad ending.


	10. Tell Me Please All is Forgiven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I had to see you.” Eventually flounders from your lips. Marshall raises a brow in interest--or maybe that’s confusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title taken from "Touch Me" from Spring Awakening  
> Touch me all silent  
> Baby just tell me--tell me please, all is forgiven
> 
> Decisions are made, I'll let you guys decide whether they're terrible or not.  
> This chapter is a bit explicit.

Remarkably, despite your absence into the latter portion of the night, the ball continued smoothly without too many speed bumps. No doubt thanks to Pepper-Mint Maid. By the time light replaced the greys of dawn and brought color into the world you were able to press the worst of your failed phone call from mind and able to debrief the rest of the night with Mint over breakfast. She scolds your absence of course, as it was rude to leave. On the other hand she was the one giving Marshall directions in the hall. There was a knowing look in her eye as soon as you saw her that morning. Worse things could have happened, at least she was someone you trusted.

It really should bring you dread, have turned your stomach but instead you felt little more than embarrassment. Of course you wouldn’t want the word getting out that you’ve slept with the Vampire King, but so long it’s just Mint who knows there’s no need to worry. It wouldn’t ruin your reputation if a rumor escaped but it might raise questions on your credibility. Er that and your sexuality, publicly speaking.

You have a bouquet ordered and sent to the girl Cindy with your sincere apologies for missing the second half of the ball. It would be more polite to apologize in person but in light of recent events you don’t think you could hide a sense of guilt considering what you had been doing instead.

You half expect Marshall to call back with something more to say. It seems too convenient for Marshall to offer forgetting the whole affair. Should you be worried? He and Fionna are still close after all. At least you think they are. It takes longer than it should for you to realize the only way Fionna would have found out what you said was through Marshall. A flame of anger expands momentarily before it’s squashed out. No, he wouldn’t have told her on his own accord. The look on his face so shocked before dragging you out the ballroom seemed that of someone more innocent than not.

Right. A call from the Vampire king.

It doesn’t come, he likes you doesn’t he? Being given more hours to mull over the situation you can assume various reasons why the entire ordeal might not be classified as great. Still, if he truly likes you shouldn’t he want you? At the very least he should want to yell at you. You don’t give your mind a second to consider the idea of how your wants might play into the matter of thought.

They do, after all.  
  
The radio silence from both Fionna, Cake, and the Vampire King leave you restless.  
  
There’s no point in approaching Fionna, it would only be an invitation for disaster. You can only hope she will eventually approach you. As for the vampire, heh. Just when you begin to believe you’ve figured him out he doesn’t follow the script in mind. Apologizing to him seems pointless as well. What would you be apologizing for at this point anyway?  
  
You did apologize. Granted that apology was followed by the removal of clothing, but it had been genuine. Now if only you could figure out what he wants now. The peace and content in the candy kingdom provides little personal satisfaction. Most citizens content and satisfied after such a wonderful celebration. There are no projects you can lock yourself in the lab with to speak of and attempting to start any blueprints would go nowhere considering how distracted your mind is.  
  
After the fourth days you fear that distraction will continue to be a problem. You’re a problem solver by nature, you should be able to work this one way or another but you can’t.  
  
Is he as haunted by thought as you are? . . . Now you’re just becoming obsessive.  
  
The fifth day you wake and hesitate with shirt in hand, the bruise on your neck has faded slightly. The dark purples melting into softer maroons and red. He was right about your usual collar covering it up from the public, unfortunately you are unable to hide it from yourself. Uncertainty and adrenaline rising in your chest at the sight of it. Marshall is not going to call you, you’ve realized and finally accepted with mild disappointment. Perhaps major disappointment if you were honest with yourself. Instead you continue in denial. You highly doubt he’d stay on the line long enough to have an actual conversation should you have the courage and stupidity to call him. There’s really no one else you can speak to confidentially about the mess you’ve made. It is a mess after all.  
  
It’s still dark out, the greys bleeding into dull colors as the sun shifts. Swiftly you pull on a pair of jeans, sweater and a cardigan to combat the cold front of early morning and slip through the halls. Avoiding your guard posts, avoiding anyone really. The mark on your neck burns with the heat of public display for no particular audience, you force the color in your cheeks to stay down and make it to a balcony where you can call upon the marrow. He’s a gentle beast, intelligent and good at following directions. Your leaving with be public, but the destination private. That’s all that matters after all.  

Outside a familiar cave you quickly send your bird away before you’re given the chance to back out. It’s dark, which seems somehow fitting. You should apologize, you will. Privately and with meaning, it’s like a mantra in your head as you enter the darkness, eyes squinting to readjust, following a faint light that beacons the vampires estate. It won’t be for Fionna, not some task to check off a list of things to do. You fear it may be too little to late but doing nothing might drive you insane.

You fear you may have fucked up.  
  
Hands unsteady as you walk the span of his porch. It really is a quaint little home. The lights outside giving it a glow of life.

You knock hands shaking. Is it too late to turn around? Retreat and attempt once more to rid him from your mind? Find some way to strain him out, thoughts like an infection coursing through your veins. No, you’d most likely go a bit mad. Continue on what might have been a destructive path from the start. You feel as though the shadows of your actions are finally dawning. Just a little. Guilt twisting uncomfortably in your stomach urging you to run. Whispering sweetly this isn’t your problem, isn’t your fault. 

It feels like eternity on that doorstep. The face that greets you looks half awake. You don’t bother an invitation in, knees near buckling as you stumble inside heart pounding. “Oh thank Glob! I was beginning to think you weren’t home.” You steady one hand against the door.  
  
Something clicks and Marshall is suddenly wide awake. A look of insult on his face. You suppose you literally invited yourself in.  
  
He opens and closes his mouth several times, a sneer seemingly the only sound that forms.  
  
You can’t let it distract you, you can’t let _him_  distract you.  

The problem is, when you open your mouth, nothing you’ve been meaning to say comes out. Instead it’s a pathetic sputter, a weak intro into the things you’ve been meaning to get across.

“I, um, didn’t think you’d answer..”

“The door?” His voice more than skeptical and entirely pleased by your unannounced drop in.

“The phone.” You correct. “So I came here instead. I would very much like to talk to you.”

He gives you a _look_. Arms crossing over his chest, eyebrow raising with distaste.

You stand unwelcome in the doorway, stared down clearly aware you are unwanted, yet your feet refuse to move from their spot. Tongue thick in your mouth failing quite evidently to present your case. You remove your shoes. His look intensifies.

“Please?”

\-----------------------------------

 

He makes coffee and you end up sitting across from him at his coffee table. It’s hot and surprisingly sweet. The cups don’t match in the slightest. He doesn’t take a sip and stares intently at you patience most likely thinning.

“On the phone.. You said to just forget everything happened. I don’t think I can do that.” You prevent his objection by powering through. “I think it would be unfair to you, to me as well! Not to mention unwise. Which I guess brings me to another thing. I’d like to apologize.” 

“You or Fionna?”  
  
You stare into the cup frowning slightly. “Me, Fionna and I haven’t talked. I doubt she wants to speak to me. Perhaps more than you.” A forced chuckle escaping, hoping and lingering for some shared humor you can tether yourself to. It’s unreturned. Marshall looks less.. Well, he looks less angry, but you're clearly still an unwelcome guest judging by the tension in his jaw.

His brows are furrowed and you feel hot guilt warm your chest at causing his concern and confusion. So you look away once more taking a sip of too sweet coffee.

“I’m trying to figure out why you’re here.” He sounds tentative, broaching the subject with caution. 

You near startle. “To apologize! As I stated. Not for, not for Fionna this time. I don’t know how I’ll speak to her.. Or when really. I doubt for a good while.” You sigh placing the chipped mug down on the table.

“It has occurred to me, with embarrassment, that I have treated you quite poorly with little means of justification.”

You hear a snort of sorts and frown feeling flustered. “No shit Gums.”

It’s hard to say when he moved, or how Marshall happened to lean over you. Hand on the back of your chair. Crimson colored eyes narrowed and searching yours. Face dangerously close. Can he hear the skip in your pulse? The breath caught in your throat? 

“Not really seeing the point you’re trying to make.” He sounds bored.  
  
With his lips so close you’re not sure either.. It’s rather distracting. He’s much too quick for his own good! Suddenly straddling your lap. Lips pressed against yours. You think a hand has moved into your hair. You don’t remember commanding your tongue to move. Tracing over Marshall’s lip for the taste of it. Parting to lick at dangerous teeth.  
  
A groan spills past your mouth when Marshall’s fingers twist and curl in your hair. It’s dizzying. One moment you’re being sucked into heat and fervor, the next you hear a snarl and barely manage to balance in your chair in order to prevent being knocked backward altogether.  
  
Marshall is still in your lap. Fingers curled in your hair, a snarl on his lips, red eyes narrowed with hostility and Glob you don’t know what you’re supposed to do.

“M..Marshall??” 

“Shut up!”  
  
You swallow your words and nod in confusion unsure of what might escape your mouth if you didn't.

“Is this what you wanted?” He bites.

“I.. I--what? No. I.. Apologizing.” You feel dizzy, difficult to think with his hands in your hair. 

“So that night was a mistake? Pity? Hate fuck?” There’s something too raw in his voice. Something you don’t recognize. You shake your head forgetting about the tight grip there. 

“I, no I don’t.. I don’t hate you Marshall! Get.. Please get off of me. You’re making it difficult to think. . .” You mumble the last bit avoiding his gaze. There’s heavy tension in the silence but he slowly stands.  
  
“Despise me?” He pries.  
  
You don’t see the goal, the point in the line of questioning and shake your head before correcting yourself. “I, no--yes? I did! Yes okay I did, I didn’t like you alright? Is that what you want me to say?” You don’t remember standing up.  
  
He doesn’t respond and you let out a heavy sigh.  
  
“Past tense?”  
  
“What?  
  
“You just used past tense.”  
  
“O-Okay? Yes I did? You know, for someone seemingly confused about what I’m doing here. Which I clarify is to _apologize_ , you’re making things rather disorganized with kissing me and these hounding questions.” You huff, arms crossing.  
  
“I’m trying to figure out why you fucked me.” The harshness in the word makes you cringe away. “When you first kissed me, you were intoxicated. Figured it was that.” There’s something disturbing about the nonchalance in his voice. The way he’s quick to crowd you again. Your back soon finding the fridge. Boxed in between metal and Marshall.

“You regret it?” 

“No?” You respond with a confused frown.

“And that?” He really needs to do something about those distracting lips, take them somewhere else.  
  
“Well.. No.” Your ears must be reddening a noticeable amount. You would have considered coming more deeply had you know Marshall would have questioned you like this.

You’re eyes are wide and confused in comparison to his. Perhaps this is how Marshall feels; you just can’t figure out what he's trying to get from _this_.

“I had to see you.” Eventually flounders from your lips. Marshall raises a brow in interest--or maybe that’s confusion. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you."  

“About me? Or _fucking_ me?” The word is like poison, and you push him away, put space between you so you can actually breath. 

“Why do keep bringing that up? No! I mean, Glob Marshall! I want to apologize because I misjudged you and was wrong and did horrible things to you! All while believing I _didn't_. Why.. Why do you keep bringing that up.” You find your voice beginning to shake. “I’m- I’m sorry? I don’t know? It was.. It was enjoyable and if I’ve done you wrong for it I apologize for that as well but.. Can you please stop saying it like that?”

He isn’t looking at you, which you’re thankful for. A break from the intensity of his stare. Air to breath and think. He’s still, head bowed black hair shadowing his eyes. Slight frown across his lips. 

  
Eventually his shoulders shake in a deformed chuckle. “Who knew the only thing that needed to happen for you to earn a conscious was to see me naked.” The emotion behind his words in unfamiliar, begging to be pinned down. You don’t know how to respond. Is this where you provide some sort of explanation or justification?

You’re not thirsty but reaching for the coffee mug and downing half of it occupies your hands and mouth.  
  
Marshall seems to just watch you, expression finally something other than a snarl or confusion.

“Guess I was trying to figure out if you were just aiming to get a fuck buddy.” There’s no humor in his words or across his face.  
  
You nearly spit out your coffee, mug crashing to the linoleum floor as you startle. Eyes wide and unbelieving. You curse under your breath, fumbling to find paper towels. “That.. That’s a bit vulgar, and not what I had in mind coming here.” What the hell even led him to that conclusion?  
  
Marshall sighs, over the mug hopefully. He disappears and comes back with a broom. You happily take it, anything to avoid his eyes really. You really wish he wouldn’t watch you as you clean up. “Sorry..” He shrugs it off and grabs paper towels.  
  
“Would you do it again?” He pitches after a moment of silence.  
  
You almost groan in disbelief, words flusters and mismatched. “I, that is, why are you still on about that? I told you that’s not why I came here.” Frown growing across your face.  
  
“I’m trying to figure out why you did it s’all. Pity? Stress? Bore--”  
  
“I wanted to okay!” You’re definitely frowning now, but it’s shut Marshall up at least. You bring the larger chunks of glass to the trashcan.  
  
“I wanted to, and we did, and I really don’t know why you’re so on about the subject.” Frustration begins to seep into your voice again.

It’s rather frustrating, how fast he can move. Speed placing you at a major disposition. He’s pinned you once more, this time against a wall, hands on your wrists. Similar to the way you once pinned him if you recall correctly. It makes breathing hard, your squirm in protest wishing he’d show an actual emotion on his face instead of that studious stare. 

“If I kept you here? Pinned against the wall with no escape,” his breath creeps hot against your neck, body shuddering in response, something he undoubtedly notices. You turn your face the other way, but that probably makes things worse. Lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I see that mark hasn’t faded.. If I retouched it? Left more? Across your shoulders, down your chest, on yours hips.” Some unknown sound escapes you, face most definitely red at this point. “Brought you up to my bedroom.”  
  
“Marshall.. /please” You don’t recognize your voice. Regardless he must read your mind because he steps away and you near buckle to the floor. Heart hammering, eyes wide and confused. Pupils dilated in undeniable want.  
  
“I’m taking that as a yes.” He sounds smug, and something else. Something disappointed or unsure.  
  
You really have no idea what he’s thinking, Glob you’re confused. Head spinning as you get grips back on reality. “I said no of the fuck buddies..” He nods, lips twisting sourly. The words are bitter in your mouth.  
  
“I know... “ Something strange happens. Some unnamed quality in his face softening. Sincere and unguarded. Tentative and unsure. You think perhaps you’ve worn that expression before.

 

“Date me?” 

  
“What?”

You can’t help it. This was the last possible thing you imagined, you didn’t imagine him even accepting your apology really. Technically he hasn’t even done that! You have to like someone to date them, get along with them, not hurt them and be an awful person in general.

“Why?” You stutter.  
  
“You’re genuinely apologizing for being an asshole, which you are. You admit to wanting to fuck me, but you don’t want to be fuck buddies. Soo.. Date me I guess.”  
  
He has terrible logic. Terrible, awful, horrendous logic that you don’t understand. That vulnerable expression is still on his face and you’ve already begun shaking your head because this is an absolutely terrible suggestion.  
  
“Marshall--no I, I _can't_ ,” It’s a sincere protest, eyebrows furrowed as you go to take hold of his hands. You’re not sure why, you think you need the support of them. “I’ve done--Glob I’ve said such awful things to you! I called you a _monster_! Granted I was drunk but.. Still! You don’t date someone who does that!” Is he stupid? He might be stupid.

“Never said you were sunshine and sugar, nice to see you’ve finally admitted it.” Why is he so calm? Why does it seem like he has everything logically laid out? You feel an urge to scream at him. 

Your voice softens “Marsha--”

“You’re sorry about all that awful shit you’ve done to me?”

“I, well yes.” You swallow, throat feeling dry. You almost miss the way his hands take yours.  
  
“You like me?”  
  
“I mean, I don’t hate you, or well despise you..”  
  
“You want to fu--” You narrow your eyes with a frown. “-- _Do things_ with me.”  
  
He squeezes your hands. You glance away and begrudgingly nod.  
  
You don’t know where this voice came from, the one that’s so soft and unmasked. Earnest and coaxing. “So.. Date me.”

“..Why would you want to date me? I’ve done nothing but.. “ The words tail off in shame. 

“Because I want to.” That’s not really an answer.

Granted you slept with him on the same basis. 

“Certainly helps that some fairy fucking godmother appeared and gave you a conscious, or maybe that was just the back of Fionna’s hand.”  
  
He takes your chin, turning your face to meet his. “Answer?”  
  
“Marsh--”  
  
“Answer?”

\-----------------------------------

 

Your name is Marshall Lee, you may or may not be chronically stupid to pursue a relationship with someone who has been nearly entirely awful to you. Someone who admits and argues that to your face. Despite the astounding evidence and voice of reason you want it. Gumball looks just as terrified as you when he tentatively answers,

“...Okay.”  
  
You don’t smile or jump in joy, instead squeeze his hands, lean forward and kiss your _boyfriend_. Bathing in the warmth dripping down into your chest. Gumball tastes like sugar and coffee.  
  
You don’t know if you’ve made a mistake yet. You pray you haven’t.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! For now. Amazing :')  
> I'm terrible with updating, as you probably know by now. So I do apologize!  
> My classes are a bit crazy at the moment, hopefully I get another chapter or two out before 2017.  
> The relationship I have with my writing is entirely love/hate which discourages me most of the time.  
> Hopefully you guys enjoyed the update and are surviving school/work/life. I know mine is just as much a mess as  
> Marshalls and Gumballs rn.
> 
> I'm really curious on you guys thoughts about how the relationship is shifting! So please, any comments or constructive criticism are highly encouraged!


	11. When i’m good, i’m very good.  But when i'm bad, i’m better.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, he’s calmed his ass down and had the brains to float back down onto the couch where you can place distance between your chests and actually kiss his dumb face for a change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title taken from Nicole Dollenganger's "Cool."  
> Er, sorry for posting this past 2am I just didn't want to forget I'd finished it!
> 
> Oh shit, one more chapter guys.  
> I apologize, this is the sex chapter.  
> Although, anyone who knows me knows I looooove dialogue!  
> So you can skip this chapter without too much effect, but I wouldn't recommend it.  
> Rest of the notes after the chapter

  
  


  
Lips, softer than you remember, mark a blazing trail from your temple down to the curves of your neck. You don’t know how they got that soft, considering how cold Marshall is. You never have enough focus to question how such cold lips could cause such shiver and warmth to bloom across your skin.

 

Somehow the number of times Marshall assaulted you since entering his humble home wasn’t enough. At least this assault is less invasive and doesn’t gravitate around interrogating you and your sexual decisions. Although, maybe less invasive isn’t exactly the right answer.

 

The two of you abandoned coffee in the kitchen in favor of the living room. Actually, _Marshall_ choose to abandon coffee by dragging you to the couch a few moments after responding positively. Now.. Well now all you can do is squirm and try to keep balance in the vampire's lap. It’s difficult. Especially when he continues to linger at your neck. It’s a bit . . . You can’t tell what he’s planning to do which is probably the point. Adrenaline kicking up with each swipe of his lip. Then there’s the actual balancing act of it all.

 

It wasn’t difficult when he pulled you into his lap on the sofa. In fact, that was fine. Keeping upright only became a damn problem when Marshall's dumb ass decided it was an okay idea to start floating. 

 

“What are we?” Is mumbled against your neck, words slightly distorted. It’s not like he has much room to lean his head back with your arms wrapped around his neck, one hand having the boldness to have curled into the vampire's messy black hair.

 

You groan. Thankfully from the question and not the way his body is completely up against yours. There’s literally no separation of contact from your ass all the way to your sternum. Leaning back would mean wobbling or falling and you feel like neither.

 

“Floating.” You don’t mean to sound so grumpy. There’s a slight pinch at the intersection between neck and shoulder. Guess that’s not the answer. You let out a grumble refusing to glance down where eyes are most certainly staring up at you. The pressure returns momentarily like a reminder that he has teeth and you are missing a shirt.

 

“Foreplay?” It produced a laugh from Marshall. The squeeze of your ass making your cheeks brighten. At least you still have pants- although with Marshall’s current mood you’re unsure how long that will last. You’d have said Making out but that’d require your lips to meet.

 

“I mean, it could be.” You push away the smallest smile at the smirk in his voice. As if you’d let him call all the shots.

 

While he’s certainly more receptive to that response it’s apparently still the incorrect answer. Then, _then_ he has the audacity to let his lips travel across your sternum and down to your chest. Lips hooking onto one of your nipples, sensitive mind you! And gently nip at the skin there. It’s only a natural reaction to yelp.

 

Luckily the damn hold he has on your ass keeps you from toppling over the side as you try to distance his lips and your chest.

 

“Okay! Okay! Gosh, you're childish!” It seems you’ve begun to pout. Looking down you only meet Marshall’s unwavering smile. It’s not even a smirk. Just knowing and surprisingly patient.

 

“We’re boyfriends.” You seem to mumble.

 

Apparently, it’s enough vocalization for him. The grin spreading across Marshall’s face melts away your grumpy mood and you swear there’s a pair of hearts in his eyes. He looks like a puppy and it’s ridiculous considering there’s definitely a boner pressed against your ass. The duality of it makes you laugh a bit and you shake your head in defeat leaning down to kiss his forehead being that you aren’t in a position to reach his lips.

 

Finally, he’s calmed his ass down and had the brains to float back down onto the couch where you can place distance between your chests and actually kiss his dumb face for a change.

 

“Was that so hard to say?” You ignore the cooing sticky quality to his voice as a raspberry is blown you your cheek. A part of you is still afraid that this is a horrible idea, another part amazed at how ... Sweet and cheesy he can be after having spent the entire visit under the guise of seductive confusing backward thinking bad cop.

 

“Yes.” You chirp with a small smile.

 

With a ‘mean’ look in his eyes Marshall grins, leans closer and--oh, he's grabbing your ass again. “You sure about that?”

 

“Extremely. With as much as zealous as you’re showing here. Jumped straight to ‘fucking’ huh?” It’s not said with any particular malice. It’s more like an observation. Maybe he wound up saying the word so much that it stuck in your mind, least you didn’t jump on it like a dog and bone.

 

He seems to straighten a bit at that, long torso leaning forward, lips dipping to pull sweetly on your own with the smallest sting. “Mm, maybe. Is that a complaint?” One of the hands has finally moved from your back side and is traveling the length of your spine. Finger dragging across the divot between your shoulder blades. The sensation is easy to melt into.

 

You lean forward, a gooey smile on your face. “I mean, you could have bought dinner first.”

 

“Wouldn’t paying you count as prostitution?” With a stifled gasp and unexpected laughter, you smack his chest. It’s hard not to make a comeback. Even if his logic insinuated one person eating.

 

“Guess that means I look pretty delicious, huh?” Smiling at you Marshall raises an eyebrow, pfft, as if you didn’t know that already.  “Although that doesn’t seem very fair if you’re the only one dining. Hm?” That was the wrong thing to say. Fuck. That was the wrong thing to say.

 

Marshall just gets this grin on his face looking at you with damn sparkles to his eyes. “Oh baby, I’m sure I could fill you up.” Eyebrow wiggle and all. Oh. Well. Guess he added a hip thrust for emphasis.

 

Your own expression is stuck between disgust and awe as you shove, yet again, at his chest. Laughter spilling from your own. “Marshall Lee! That is disgusting!” Your laughter doesn’t seem to be selling it though and he ends up scooping you up - far too easily mind you, throwing you over his shoulder like some barbarian before heading up a ladder. At least he has the brains to make sure your head doesn’t get knocked off in the process.

 

Ah, right, then there’s the matter of his bed. At least the damn thing isn’t so hard as his sofa. In fact, you’re generally surprised the room isn’t a mess. Well, aside from its inhabitants. You grab hold the hem of Marshall’s shirt before he gets the chance to roll it over his head. “You seriously want to do this right now?” The voice in the back of your mind fearfully whispers ‘glorified fuck buddies’, you chase the notion away.

 

Confusion clouds the vampire’s face which is otherwise unreadable. “. .Well, _yeah_. Apologies for finding you attractive? Am I.. Do I not turn you on or something?” It’s spoken like a joke of sorts. Self-deprecating and vulnerable and you instantly regret the question.

 

“N-no, Glob. That’s not… I just, I want to make sure you like me.” It comes out small, eyes averting his gaze as you curl up on the bed. The mattress dips at his added weight, knees planted on either side of you. Cheek turned back towards him. “Hey. You’re definitely thinking too much. Okay?” He waits and you eventually nod. “Now, like, relax okay? I can’t pin every reason why I like you to put in words and shit but. I do.” There’s a pause, cheeky smiles growing almost shyly. “Annnnd liking you just sorta involves this uh. Feeling.”

 

You raise an eyebrow, curiosity peeking as some of the crowded thoughts stagger. “Feeling?” You can’t help but notice the way he bites his lip - sharp teeth grazing soft skin. It’s rather distracting.

 

“Yeah, dude! Like… I just wanna.. Nnfph!” The enthusiasm makes you chuckle, body relaxing. “You’re really fucking hot okay? I’d never really seen you without a shirt before well the dance and stuff. I’d kinda figured you’d be a stick, right?” You roll your eyes but let him continue. “Where the fuck did you get a bod?” He’s full out grinning now and so are you. Blush creeping along your cheeks, not unlike the pale hands traveling up your stomach.

 

Before Marshall gets the opportunity to completely hover over you, you push and power through a flip until you’re straddling him. He looks a bit dazed but without complaint. “By that expression, I’d say you enjoy being on your back.” Marshall’s laughter is rich but it doesn’t cover the guilty look across his face. “Ah... What can I say? You’re really fucking hot.” You’re both grinning at this point.

 

“You gonna let me take off my shirt this time?”

 

“Mm... I’m not sure I wanna let you have that much control over your hands... “ You coo.

 

“Well well well… I’m surprised at you princess!”

 

You let him take off his shirt before taking control of his wrists. Guess if he’s not pinning you--you’re pinning him.

 

Despite being both straddled and pinned and _probably?_  immobile Marshall is the one seen licking his lips like a predator. “Figured you’d wouldn’t be much a dom considering you’re constantly ruling over a kingdom - figured you’d want some stress relief.”

 

You can’t help but smirk, “And what about you, Vampire King? What a scandal! It almost looks like you’re begging to be knocked down a peg.” Who knew you had such a ... Uh, explicit tongue. You blame Marshall--Seems that will continue to be an ongoing trend.

 

Curious and more curious, he doesn’t make any attempt to deny it. Instead, he’s laughing. The hands on your ass are a bit of a surprise but you can manage with a pout, would be nice if he could at least play along. “Nuh uh, no fair. That’s cheating speedster!” While Marshall definitely rolls his eyes you can’t deny the way his slippery paws leave your body and go back to their position over his head. 

 

“Alright, alright.. . Pushy.”

 

“. . You’re not even trying!”

 

“Contradictory to fight back when you’re wanting me to beg dont’ya think?”

 

You frown brows scrunching before a somewhat forced laugh escapes.

 

“You! Play by the rules?” You wrap your hands around slender wrists once more even if it contradicts your own statement.

“It’s kind hard to picture you begging.”

 

Glob you want to melt into that laugh of his, “Do you need a challenge?”

 

Before you can reply he’s shaking his head, insisting for you to wait. With a roll of the eyes and small sigh, you close your eyes and wait.

 

It’s a mistake.

 

You don’t care if it’s manufactured the moan Marshall lets out is downright sinful, a hot brand of shame sweeping from your nose to your ears. The sound is all hot breath and antagonistic- your eyes flash open. You’d at least expect him to wear a smug look but nope, Marshall is nothing if not committed to the way his mouth hangs open between desperate whimpers, hips arching up to grind against you and oh glob you're face is on fire.

  
  


"Aa-Aah~! Gumball, hn.. hn, Pla-ple-asee," He was a bad, bad, man. "Mm.. hh huh. . uh oh, glob, oh glob~ Please fuck me."

 

It’s a miracle your jaw doesn’t dislocate.

 

“Mm,, M’beggin’ you..” He finished sweetly with a pant, lips twisting into a devilish smile and ohmyglobyouresohard.

 

There’s a silence as you stare in disbelief.

 

“Get your dick in me and make me sound like that, I’ll do anything ya want.” Marshall coo’s waggling his brows and what the fuck.

 

You pull away with little grace. “Naked, please.”

 

He can laugh but eyeing his crotch you’re not the only one suffocating. Pft. “What happened to your manners and full sentences?”

 

“Oh, I don’t know. They died with that performance!”

 

Smirking and way too fast Marshall comes close almost knocking you off your damn feet. A hand wrapped in your hair while another goes straight to cupping your crotch. Brilliant. “Don’t tell me. . . You  _don’_ t wanna fuck me?”

 

An unironic whine escapes your pursed lips in response as you bury your head in the vampire's shoulder. Your legs have gone stiff in response which is a miracle and you can’t complain about the hand in your hair. If anything it’s pride that forces you to return the gesture. Only, Marshal in undignified enough to rock back into your hand.

 

“Ugh! You’re not supposed to do that!” You sputtered finding yourself pulling away with a slight laugh.

 

Marshall isn’t laughing.

 

“Not suppose to what? Want you?” Oh, and there he goes again in that dreamy silk voice that will catch you head over heels soon enough. You have no comeback, only dumb mumblings as he steps forward taking your hands in his own and pulling you back to the bed. Back to where you started. Kinda. There’s just less clothing in the way now and your heart is working a bit faster.  You really have no reply or comeback so you shut yourself up. If Marshall knows this he doesn’t comment despite humming against your lips. You exhale softly at the feeling of the marshall’s teeth just closing against your bottom lip, tugging but not painful. The gesture is sweet in a way, you think it logical he could very easily hurt you if he wanted.

 

It’s a dumb sweet gesture that has you thinking (surprisingly enough) to the point you want to return it but lack any meaningful way to do so. Pulling away you press your lips together firmly before trailing down the structure of Marshall’s jaw. Tongue tracing an empty vein down his neck.  "Any requests?" Words near muffled. Funny you’d hold him down and still let him call the shots. .

 

There’s an odd silence that almost worries you, to the point you’re about to lift your head before he timidly replies.

 

“. . . Bite me?”

 

Then you _do_ lift your head, eyebrow raised in confusion but before you ask you see the expression of self-consciousness and doubt. It would really be nice to know _why_  Marshall, a VAMPIRE wanted to be bitten but you don’t have the heart to subject him to the question with a face like that.

 

“What if I hurt you?”

 

It almost looks like he’s about to laugh but he just shakes his head. “I’ll tell you.”

 

You don’t dwell on it, do now - ask later. He _did_  ask after all. And despite the less than sexy pause if he could make Marshall feel good, and feel wanted... Well. Guess biting would have to be it! Lips returning to a soundless pulse you hover there, listen to the increasingly unsteady breathing, massage his wrists and anxiety while you work up the nerve to sink your teeth into his flesh by tracing the scores of cold skin with the tip of your tongue. Glob you wish you could just warm him up, just a for a little while.

 

The muscles under you begin to tense and there’s an air of aggravation like he might call it off when you finally press your incisors into the corner of his neck and shoulder. Softly at first but the tension only leaves when your jaw tightens. Muscles relaxing before tightening while Marshall intakes air beneath you. Hips rocking forward as a string of sound is pulled from his lungs followed by a colorful swear and intake of breath when your teeth sink deeper and glob you hope you don’t break the skin. Although, by the groan, he lets out you don’t think he’d mind. . . you push away the prospect he wouldn’t bleed like someone alive would. Suddenly you pull away with a start eyes wide.

 

‘You’re not going to bruise!” It’s an exclamation and makes Marshall laugh once he’s finished looking at you in confusion.

 

“Uh... Yeah, don’t really do that but scratches and indents tend to hold up if I let em. .” He has sort of this sexy smirk and it’s really hot and you guess there’s nothing wrong with a pain kink so long as he’s not _really_  hurt.

 

“Side’s princess, you look a lot better in bruises.”

 

Biting your lip in response you grin and sweep down to nip gently at his lower lip, giggling when Marshall bites back with such softness. “Stay there.” You try to sound stern but it doesn’t work.

 

Leaving his wrists unattended you have to kind of roll over to reach his drawers and begin searching them for the inevitable bottle of lube. “Do you have condoms?”

 

“...I don’t use them?”

 

Your head snaps back and you look a little horrified and surprised with just a sprinkle of disgust. “ _Marshall Lee!_ ” That’s disgusting! He puts his hands up in surrender.

 

“Babe! I’m not alive, I’m undead. I don’t get sick, or tired, or hell .. I don’t even cum like.. Nothing comes out.” He sorta chuckles on the end of that before trying to tell you something with his eyes that you can’t really make out because you’re too busy trying to figure out the science of whatever he’s saying which is probably the second time you’ve ruined sexy time.

 

“I don’t have and cannot transmit anything… So I don’t use em. If you really want to we could stop?” And what gets your heart is the way he says it. It’s genuine, not pushing or pressuring. How did you miss these sweet parts of him?

 

You find the lube.

 

“Uh... No, no it’s . . I trust you.” The words come out with a small smile before you crawl back over him, laugh escaping when you find he’s totally removed his boxers.

 

“Wait, so how do you have a boner without blood?”

 

“Uh... Heck if I know?” Riiight.

 

“But, wait... Does this... Does sex do anything for you if you don’t…” You trail off with a frown and only receive a groan of frustration and thinning patience.

 

“Gumball, I swear to Glob if you don’t hurry up and fuck me you’re not gonna find out.”

  
  


Op, shit okay. You nod.

 

And you try. You’re really trying but, the universe isn’t on your side and you just kind broke the sexy roll you were on when suddenly you can’t open a bottle of lube. Marshall rolls his eyes instead of snapping again and snatched the bottle while waving you away, which is confusing until he points at your drawers presently still on since you got too distracted by um science. Nodding you get up and start rolling them down. With one foot out a sharp intake of air takes catches your attention.

 

Turning you find Marshall on his knees, the lube bottle open and lip held between his teeth eyes closed as a pair of fingers disappears between twitching thighs. It’s . . Incredible attractive. . . The way his eyebrow twitches in turn but totally _not_  what you had in mind.

 

“Hey!”

 

You expect rubies to snap open but instead, his eyes lid slightly as he tries to fight back a sound in his throat. Again it’s really hot but...

 

“Though I had ownership over those hands.” You arch a brow and he seems to smirk shaking his head and _still going_.

 

“Ya do, ya do... Just uh, you’d take too long.”

 

Oh, he didn’t.

 

No means are you faster than Marshall but maybe your boldness and quick decision catch him off guard because suddenly you’re retrieving his wrists and pushing him down - untangling his legs take a minute but by the way he’s looking up at you with a shuddering chest you’re not sure if he’s any upset.

 

“Do we need to make rules?” You try and sound serious.

 

He grins a little “No, but maybe a safe word like water?”

 

Your nose scrunches and you automatically abbreviate it to H2o. You don’t comment any further. Wipe his hands on the bed, ignore his protest and lube your own digits. Nails reaching as far as they can down the inside of his thigh before raking upward. Marshall arches with a groan.

 

“Are you going to do that again?”

 

The smile on his lips is that of a love drunk vampire. He bites his lip comically. “Do what?”

 

“Disobey me?”

 

“Probably.”

 

You can’t help but smile, at the same time, you don’t warn him when inserting two knuckles. He gasps again, but not in pain. You don’t have to force the motion and it feels more like he’s pushing back against you. Hips rocking with an obvious need of something more. Your free hand is holding onto a wrist for appearance sake.

 

You stay like that for a while. Two fingers to the first set of knuckles. He seems to only be holding in sounds that want to come out when you tease a bit further. Eventually, you give in and go to the second knuckle but he only continues rocking, a low whine forming that only turns into a frustrated groan.

 

“GaahH… Gumball! Stooooop…. Pleeeasseee, you’re fucking killing me and I need you to be fucking me!”

 

Your finger scissor and find a certain nerve. Marshall completely shudders eye fluttering closed. You smirk.

 

“Maybe I would have been if you’d have been a little patient.”

 

You can’t tell if he’s gasping from your fingers or your boldness. Either way, it might be your imagination but it looks like he’s blushing - perhaps it’s just the increasing glow of his eyes.

 

He starts to protest but you lean forward and graze your teeth sharply against his chest. There’s a sharp moan and arched spine, thighs twitching all the way down as Marshall Lee’s head comically snaps upward a weak splintered snarl on his lips at your borderline teasing. With a small yank at his wrist, he groans and falls back again moaning out another please dammit.

 

You give in and lube yourself, aligning his hips and holding them when he tries to suck you in like a glob forsaken vacuum, no patience at all good lord. You go slow and you _swear_  that he must have a phantom heartbeat somewhere in there with the way he withers and heaves until you all there holding your breath and trying to silence the echo in your head until you can move again.

 

You don’t mean to be rough and manhandle, somehow the lack thereof bruises and blooms of color makes it harder to tell. He doesn’t mind the way your hips snap forward. Marshall Lee is pure sex appeal and you would never have imagined him like this, lips and tongue sweet like saccharine and something else you have no reference of. It’s just… The feeling is… Glob it’s like something inside you is burning and the way his eyes glow and flutter aren’t helping you find reasons to slow down.

 

He gets the nerve to pull your hair, you moan before jerking away his hand and leaning forward to leave further indentations and proof of your existence on his body. You don’t give mind about breaking skin this time, he sounds like a symphony and your promptly yearning it’s crescendo. Eventually, you slow down and falling into a rolling sway like tides, face buried in his neck. You let Marshall scratch his way across you back.

 

It’s tempting, the heat, you’re sooo close if you could just do _something_.. But then you’d have to give up listening to the sweet whimper fall from Marshall’s lip.

 

“Hhhnn... Babe… B-abee, hn go faster. Pleasee. I’m ha… haa, fuck, Mm’so close..” Voice a needy drawl, hips rocking back to meet your thrust. It’d be comical if you weren’t panting yourself. You manage a single stuttered ‘ha!’

 

“Thought you hh.. Didn’cum.” You sigh, lips parting from his neck to watch him instead.

 

There’s an adorable look of frustration and the backward rolling of eyes when you give an extra push. “Mm Idon but fucck, It’s like.. Shit! It’s still a feelin ng-h a ahh, noth-tthhing comes ou…” The words break off as you drag your nails across the canvas of his skin.

 

You figure you won’t hold out any longer and pause, which probably wasn’t the _best_  approach when Marshall lets out a desperate squawk and claws a bit too sharply at your thighs. You push through a hiss and quell his concern pulling him upward. “Shh..”

 

It’s not like you actually stopped, thrusts slow and shallow.

 

“Shh.. Shh, it’s okay! Just .. I wanna try something.”

 

Marshall is unphased and pouting with a frown but doesn’t seem to lose his mind afterward. The words are in your head but they just.. The question won’t leave your lips. With a nervous exhale you tap a finger to his lips and bring it to a vein across your neck. He looks confused, then surprised and then, his eyes begin to glow glossy red. It seems for a second Marshall is able to pause whatever warm pulsing ache is growing in his hips while flames licked at your ankles and thighs.

 

You nod, breath heavy now with the thought, the memory of how _good_ it makes you feel. Marshall’s voice breaks as he glances from your eyes to your neck with an emotion you can’t quite place. There’s a soft whine that sounds more like a compressed sob. “. . .I want you--Glob I _want_  you.” It’s not until he says the words that you find yourself inhaling sharply. It might be sex and heat and want but glob those eyes are so genuine.

 

You let out a sharp curse as teeth sink into your skin, it quickly turns into a moan as _something_  makes every movement feel hot and heavy like wax. Hips stuttering and struggling to gain speed. You quickly wrap your arms around his neck and in his hair, mouth hanging open in a moan. Then half closed and you’re still panting.

 

The walls growing hazy and blurry as heat and fire roll over your skin from head to toe.

 

He stops not long after he starts but the effect linger.

 

. . Marshall.. Marshall _wanted_  you. You’re hazy but there’s than a pair of hands helping you move in a steady swiftly increasing rhythm. You feel your face flush with burning heat from the center of your collar to the tips of your eyes a faint cry escaping as your toes curl. “Marshmar-mars-fuck--” Head bowing you could swear the two of you were floating, words stumbling and flustered, body overstimulated the words are barely legible “Fu.. Fuu,, Wan’ you--tooo… ‘m *yours*--”

 

You seemed to have missed Marshall’s triumphant crescendo but he sure as hell brings you to yours. You spill and he flips you over. Lips peppering soft kisses from your cheek to your chest as you lie there open mouthed panting.

 

“...Mmmfh haha ahh fuck! Glob! Babe.. Baby, you were so sexy.. You were soo good oh my glob.” He's laughing and you can barely keep your eyes open? You groan in agreement and try to understand why the praise leaves your skin tingling.

 

“I love you.”

 

You’re eyes open for that, Marshall resting atop your chest with a smile and eyes glowing like embers. You try but the words won’t return themselves.

 

Licking your lips you try again, “I really like you…” Wincing you fear you’ve made a mistake. . . Marshall doesn’t beam with happiness and afterglow but the smile doesn’t go away.

 

“That’s a nice start.” He tries and you smile back eyes falling close. They don’t open again for another good twenty minutes or so when a pair of hands rocks your torso.

 

According to Marshall the two of you are gross and need to clean up. No, you can’t stay laying there any longer get the hell up. With that strange strength of his, Marshall manages to haul your ass to the bathroom where he’s so genius  prepared a bath. The water is hot and you sigh happily curling against his chest in the water. Well, okay you kind of have to with the size.

 

Eventually, you can keep your eyes open for longer than two seconds and begin tracing patterns against his chest, cheek smushed against his shoulder. “That was.. Uh… Nice.” You try to say it without blushing but you can only think you failed miserably.

 

“Nice? Haha try fucking sexy, I mean damn! Wasn’t sure you had it in you but you were feisty and mmpfh!” You can’t help but laugh and blush harder at the enthusiasm.

 

The fart also apparently already showered, which is actually nice - you’ll probably want one later seeing that you're sitting in sweat water.  

 

“Didn’t know you had a pain kink.” It's supposed to be subtle but he just scratches his neck and chuckles softly shrugging some.

 

“Uh, yeah--I dunno for the longest time I didn’t even _get_  hurt so like.. When someone managed to fuck me up in the pit or something the endorphins just kinda really gave it a kick. Eventually, I figured out a good use for it. . . . Are you okay, though? Like.. I didn’t take too much did I?”

 

He’s frowning now, “I tried not to.. You fell asleep really quick, though. . Which I get! Busted a nut,” That phrase earns a swat, “haha okay so you ‘overextended’ yourself.” He finished cheekily. You splash water in his direction to wipe the look off his face.

 

“Yeah! I’m good.. It was, it was good.. It's just, I dunno it was really hot.. Ha ha…”

 

He moves closer grinning still, “Member what you said?”

 

Stealing a glance you find no reason to deny it and only manage to sigh with a small knowing line across your lips. “Yeah..”

 

“Aannnd?”

 

You roll your eyes and turn back to him grinning, possibly adoringly.. “‘m yours”. The look on Marshall’s face is worth it. A grin, happy and sweet and full of so many layers and variables you don’t think you can catch them all. Maybe this isn’t such a crazy awful idea, maybe he was right…

 

“Hey.. I really like you too.”

 

Laughing softly you lean forward and meet him in a kiss before spending a bit too much time in the bath. Even then all you do is have Marshall find your food (you technically were his…) and then return to his bed to cuddle. He eventually finds his laptop and you wind up watching a movie - you admittedly dozed off twice.

 

He eventually closes the laptop and you jostle upward, head glancing around as if you were awake. Yes, totally awake! Psh, sleep, what’s that?

 

“Do you want to just stay over?” There’s a pause and Marshall looks the other way as if afraid to meet a decline. “You don’t have to, I just figure it might be easier than hauling back to the candy kingdom. . Plus who will keep me warm?” He’s persuasive when he acts all sweet.

 

“People uh.. If something happened and I was missing…” You chew on your lip with a crease in your brow. You don’t really like that answer, Marshall doesn’t like that answer either and he raises and eyebrow at you.

 

“.. . People might talk?” You try with little confidence.

 

“Pft, I thought Mint already knew.” You groan in a preparation of conversations to come.

 

“. . . What are you going to tell Fionna..?” Your voice comes out smaller than you would have liked it too.

 

Marshall doesn’t answer immediately, sort of rocks his head from side to side in contemplation before giving a shrug. You frown.

 

“I mean, I dunno Gumball… I don’t think there’s a right answer and I don’t think I should be the one to tell her. We can both tell her - I don’t know if she’s coordinated enough to slap us both Marshall gives a bit of a wink and you swallow any comment you had.

 

Eventually, he asks once more if you’ll stay the night.

 

You, of course, say yes.

  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! We're getting close to the end guys! Seems about time honestly.  
> Chapter 12 shouldn't take another three months since I know what I want to do! So, yay for that. 
> 
> This chapter held some mild indulgence I feel 'meh' about writing the actual smut. I just wanna write the smutty dialogue. Also tried out Grammarly - so there should be fewer mistakes!
> 
> This fic is winding down, however, I take requests and prompts here ! ! ! Or heck feel free to say hello!  
> shipsham.tumblr.com/ask 
> 
> As always, thanks for love and support!


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